KATHERINE OF IRELAND 2/2
by Jenna Tooms

~~Twelve~~

Katherine came into William's chamber, to find William making
faces at Quaid to make him laugh. He sat cross--legged on his bed
with the baby on his lap, and Quaid laughed and bounced and
clapped his hands. Normally Katherine loved to see them play
together, for William was at ease with Quaid, and Quaid would
spend many comfortable hours in William's arms.

At the moment, however, she did not want to think about how happy
the two of them were together. She planted herself before William
with her hands on her hips and said,

"Where is Milly?"

"She wanted to spend some time with her sweetheart, so I said I'd
take Quaid. What have you been doing this morning?"

"Writing letters with Brother Michael." She pursed her lips and
said, "Why did you move my things in here without speaking to me
first?"

"I thought we had discussed it already. You agreed it would be
best, for convenience's sake. Did I do wrong?"

"I know we discussed it, but that's not the point."

"Then what is the point, dearest?"

"I would have liked to have overseen it myself."

"There is not much to oversee. Quaid's clothing, his cradle and
toys, your clothing--did I forget anything?"

"No. You didn't forget anything." She sighed and sat down beside
him on the bed, and Quaid squealed and reached for her. She took
him, smiling, and kissed him noisily.

"Then what's wrong?" William caressed her hair gently.

"I would not like to inform everyone in this castle that we--that
I am your mistress." She kissed Quaid again to keep from looking
at William.

William sighed and rearranged his legs so he could embrace both
her and Quaid to his chest. "Dearest," he said softly, "if you
are embarrassed or ashamed--"

"I am not ashamed. I merely do not want everyone to know." She
sighed, leaning back against his chest. He had drawn up his legs
and crossed them at the ankles, and she felt completely embraced
and sheltered by him. She said, "I wish there were no one in the
world but us."

"Oh, dearest Katie," he said, and kissed her face gently. "It's
not that bad, is it?"

"Mel scolded me." Her lips started to tremble and she pressed her
face against his arm. "If he thinks so poorly of me, what must
the people who already hate me be saying? That I've bewitched
you? That I've enchanted you? That I am going to be your
downfall?"

"No one is saying anything like that about you."

"I am not so sure. This morning as I sat with Brother Michael, I
got several dirty looks from women under your care."

"What are you suggesting?" William said with a chuckle.

"I think they're jealous. I think there are any number of women
here who would love to be in my place."

"Hm. Too bad for them." He kissed her again and said, "There is
no one else I want in your place."

Katherine had to smile, and turned back her head to kiss him in
gratitude. In her lap Quaid babbled, amusing himself with his
hands. She kissed Quaid as well, and said, "Mel said I am
cheapening myself."

William stiffened for a moment, then said, "Do you feel cheap?"

"No. Not at all. I told him how I do feel but it didn't seem to
satisfy him."

"How do you feel?"

She rubbed her cheek against Quaid's head, and said, "I feel
loved, William."

"Good," he whispered, and kissed her neck.

Katherine ducked away from the ticklish feeling of his lips,
chuckling. "William, it's the middle of the day."

"So it is. Do you have anything pressing going on?"

"Quaid is going to start wailing for his meal any moment."

"Oh, yes. I defer to the laddie. May I stay with you?"

"Yes. You may."

Quaid, however, did not seem to be hungry, and chewed on his fist
and patted Katherine's leg through her skirt. Katherine turned
him to lie him on his belly against her bosom, and he looked at
her with his dark eyes and kicked up his heels. William leaned
back against his cushions, still holding them, and Katherine
wondered if he was dozing. She would not have been opposed to a
nap, herself, after their sport the night before.

She said, "I know that Mel is only concerned for my well--being.
He has been my advisor and my friend all my life. I do listen to
him, yet . . ."

"Dearest, if your conscience is not resting easily perhaps we
ought to reconsider."

She turned and looked at him, puzzled. "Reconsider, William? Is
that what you want?"

"No, but if it is the only way for you to be happy here, we can
return to the way things were before." He touched her cheek
tenderly and kissed her. "If that will make you happy."

"No," Katherine said. "That will not make me happy." She began to
unknot her gown and William chuckled. "It is time for Quaid to
eat," she admonished him as she bared herself.

"I know." He leaned his head against the back of her neck, and
she held Quaid to her breast. After a moment of searching he
finally took the nipple and began to suckle with determination.

Katherine had begun to drift into a comfortable languor when
William spoke again. "There is another course to take."

"Hm? Oh. What is it?"

He kissed her neck and whispered, "You could become my wife, and
then no one would question our being together."

Her eyes flew open and she stammered, "William, I--that may not
be--oh, my."

"Well, it may not be the wisest course, either."

"I couldn't, William. It would endanger you and your people far
to much."

"Are you still worried about FitzJames? He will discover soon
enough about my deception."

"William, you must not do anything to endanger yourself or your
people. I will not allow it. Even the alliance with my father
should be kept a secret until such time as he can come to your
assistance."

"I would rather fight FitzJames over you than for any other
reason, even to defending the last stone of Weylin."

"Are you not listening to me? If you go to war with FitzJames
over me I will--I will--I will leave this place. I will go into a
convent--I will become a hermit--I will go to farthest islands of
the Picts--"

"All right, all right. Forgive me. That obviously is an
unsuitable solution."

Katherine leaned back against him again, and murmured soothingly
to Quaid, who had started to become agitated as their voices
rose. When he was calm again and sucking peacefully at her
breast, she said, "Do not concern yourself overmuch. It will be
as I have said. I will tend to what consequences arise."

"Very well," William whispered, and lay his head on her shoulder.

William found Brother Michael in his chambers off the family
chapel, and he took the seat opposite Michael with a dramatic
sigh. Michael stopped reading and lay a page marker in his book,
and looked up at William with a patient expression.

William toyed with one of Michael's candlesticks and said, "I
asked her."

"And?"

"She said no."

"Oh," Michael said. "I must say, that is not the answer I
expected her to give."

"I was not surprised. I had rather hoped . . . but I was not
surprised. Why would a queen want to marry a man such as I? I
offer her no riches, a very small piece of land--"

"But one of the most beautiful in all of Britain."

"There is little wealth in beauty. And I am sure after the bounty
of Angria she sees it as stark and lonely. I cannot ask her to
stay here, Michael. She longs for her own home, her own people."

"The poets say there are ways of changing a woman's mind."

"I've heard poets sing of battles in which I fought, and I did
not recognize them from the tale. I put little faith in the words
of poets."

"So you do not think a show of strength would impress her."

"Of strength? No. I could not slay enough dragons or fight enough
giants. She would find it foolish and dangerous, were I to try."

"A great show of devotion, then."

"Such as what? She would not send me on a quest like a knight of
Arthur. If I found the Holy Grail for her she would thank me
politely and ask why I had stayed away so long." William sighed
and lay his head on the table.

"Try something simple, then. Write her a poem, or compose her a
song."

"What could I say about her that has not been said a thousand
times, by poets far more skilled than I?"

"The difference between them and you being that you love her,"
Brother Michael said in a complacent tone. "William, my friend,
if you are trying to prove your love only she knows what method
will work. But you must do something or live with the regret of
doing nothing."

"I cannot convince myself it is right to ask her to stay."

Brother Michael reopened his book and said, "Very well, William."

William watched him read for several minutes, then said, "You
speak the Irish tongue, do you not?"

"I do."

"Teach me to tell her I love her in her own language."

Now Michael smiled as he put the book aside. "Very well,
William."

William was not able to come to bed until late. His chamber was
dark, and he could hear the soft sounds of Katherine and the baby
sleeping. He knelt by Quaid's cradle to kiss him and make sure he
was covered by his blanket. The baby stirred but did not wake,
and William undressed himself and slipped into bed to join
Katherine.

She also stirred at his touch, and after a moment she said, "Have
you had a good day? I've hardly seen you."

"It was a good day."

She turned towards him and kissed his mouth. "Are you very
weary?"

"Not very. Enough."

"Here." She sat up and pulled him towards her, and began rubbing
his shoulders. "Does this help?" she asked after a few moments.

"Very much."

"What did you do today?"

He smiled. "Oh, the usual of a lord of the manor. And I had
lessons."

"Lessons? What are you learning?"

"Things I have neglected. You know, I look at you with your books
and your languages and your letters . . . I have never written a
letter that was meant for only one pair of eyes. Nor received
one."

"A man in your position does not need to know how to read and
write."

"You know how. And your brothers as well."

"Learning has always been highly valued in my family. You were
taught to fight and I was taught to read. Is that what you
learned today? To read?"

"No. There were other lessons today. Oh, that's it, right there."

Her hands continued to massage his back, and then lingered over a
spot on his lower back. "How did you get this scar?"

"A sword cut through my armor."

Katherine leaned down and kissed it tenderly. "And this one?" She
had found one on his ribs.

"Quarterstaff."

She kissed that one was well. "And this one?" There was a large
scar on his shoulder.

"Thrown from a horse."

She kissed it. "This one?"

"The same horse."

She kissed it, and smoothed the puckered flesh with her
fingertips. "This one," she whispered, stroking an old and deep
scar on his thigh.

"A mace. Broke my thigh. I couldn't walk for three months."

"You must have been bored."

"I was. Terribly."

"So what did you do for three months?"

"I drew."

"You draw?"

"I draw."

"Are you any good?"

"Well, I think so. I shall draw you someday and then you may
judge for yourself."

For a long time she continued rubbing his thigh gently, and then
she said, "I should like to see how you see me."

"I see you as everyone else sees you. As the most beautiful woman
in the world."

She bit his knee. "Don't call me that. It's absurd. There is no
one 'most beautiful woman.' There are many, many beautiful women
and we are all beautiful differently."

"As you say, madame."

"Furthermore, you do not see me as everyone else sees me. I don't
know exactly how it is that you see me, but I know that you see
me in ways no one else has before. You always have."

William sat up and reached for her in the darkness, and gently
took hold of her shoulders and drew her to him. She was trembling
even as he held her tight. "Fairest of all Kates," he said and
kissed her. "Sweetest and most lovely of all Kates. Do you want
to see yourself through my eyes? You are the most beautiful woman
in the world. Perhaps I do see you differently than others do,
but if I do it is only because I love you."

She sighed and ran her hands through his hair, and said softly,
"Love me, then. Love me, William, love me." She pulled off her
shift without ceremony and pressed his hands to her breasts. He
bent to kiss them, and drew his tongue up her throat to suck on
her ear.

"I do love you," he whispered, as her hands stroked over his
chest and pushed the blankets aside to touch him further. "And
someday I will draw you, and you will see how beautiful you are."

"Everything is beautiful, when I am in your arms," she said, and
covered his mouth with hers.

He left a portfolio on the table for her a few days later. At
first she thought he had left it there by mistake, but then
realized, no, he wanted her to see this. She untied the portfolio
and looked through the pieces of parchment and vellum within.

He was very good. She knew the subjects at once: Margaret, Kit,
William's steed, Weylin from one of the nearby cliffs, Quaid. And
then herself, a gentle portrait in charcoal. She looked as if she
were daydreaming, her face pensive, a tiny smile on her lips, her
hand pushing through her loosened hair. She looked soft, young,
untroubled. She did look beautiful.

Katherine smiled. So this was how he saw her. She liked it.

She was tying up the portfolio's ribbons when a knock sounded on
her door. "Come, she said, and smiled as Mel Faolon entered the
room.

"My dear friend," she said, holding out her hands to him. "I have
not seen you for many days. How are you?"

"I am well," he said, frowning. "I have been pondering the
situation."

Her smile faded, and she dropped her hands, as he had made no
move to take them. "And what have you decided?"

"I should leave you."

"Mel--"

"I have no place here. Neither you nor William Wolf's Son need me
as an advisor. Perhaps your father could find use for me, or one
of your brothers, or I could go with Anna Rose to her new
husband. At any rate, when John By the Way journeys back to
Ireland, I will go with him."

"Mel, you do not need to leave us. You know you are welcome
here."

"I am not so certain. I feel that I have worn out my welcome.
William Wolf's son does not want me here, I grate on his
conscience."

"He does no such thing. He likes you."

"He does not deserve you, and he knows it. My presence reminds
him that he has turned a queen into a common strumpet."

Heat rushed to her cheeks. "I am not a common strumpet, and how
dare you speak to me this way! I find your censure hypocritical,
Mel. And it wounds me deeply."

He scuffed his foot against the floor and muttered, "I fear for
the day he tires of you."

Katherine stared at him, and undid the ribbons on William's
portfolio. "I want you to see something." He stepped closer to
her, and she brought out the charcoal portrait William had made
of her. By his sharp intake of breath, Katherine knew he was as
moved by it as she had been. "Tell me," she said quietly, "if you
think this could have been drawn by a man who plans to abandon
me."

He pushed the drawings aside. "You cannot judge a man's heart by
this kind of frivolity."

She sighed and closed the portfolio. "Perhaps you ought to leave,
if you are so determined to be unhappy. It wounds me, Mel, that
you cannot rejoice with me, that I have found a place where I am
comfortable, and that I have found a friend in whom I can place
my trust."

"I cannot rejoice in your degradation."

"I am not degraded. I am happy. I am adored. And there is the way
he treats my son, a child to whom he has no ties, owes no
loyalty---but he loves him, Mel, William loves my baby, and that
speaks volumes to me of his true character."

"It is hard not to love a newborn child."

"But you have not seen him walk the floor with Quaid nights, when
Quaid was too cranky or ill to sleep. You have not heard William
sing to Quaid and talk to him, as if he were his own son. You
were not there, Mel, the night Quaid was born," Katherine's voice
broke and she could not keep the tears back any longer, "when I
was certain one or both of us would die, and William held me and
kept me alive with his strength and his faith. He does love me,"
she whispered, the truth of it filling her heart for the first
time. "He does love me."

Mel looked at her, still frowning, but he said quietly, "Perhaps
you are right."

Katherine wiped her eyes and nodded. "I know what I have seen. I
know what it tells me. This man will never hurt me."

"So this is how you treat the memory of your lord and husband."

Her jaw tightened and she said, "He is dead. I am alive."

"You always were headstrong," Mel said.

"So you should not be surprised by my decision."

"Nonetheless," he said, "I will leave for Ireland with John By
the Way. And when your family asks after you, what shall I tell
them?"

"Tell them the truth," Katherine said, raising her chin, and Mel
sighed.

"Yes, my lady." He bowed to her and left the chamber.

Katherine took several deep breathes and pressed her hands
together, surprised to discover that she was trembling. She
wished Quaid were with her, so she could smell his sweet baby
scent and listen to his soothing babbling. She wished William
were with her, so he could hold her and tell her that Mel was
wrong.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head on her hands. Following
her heart was harder than she thought it would be.

But she could not give him up. Not now. Perhaps, not ever.

~~Thirteen~~

"May I have a word with you, my lord?" Mel asked, and William was
surprised at how cold he could make the honorific sound, as if it
took all his effort to get the words out.

"Of course you may," he said, and dismissed the falconer with a
nod. He and Mel left the falconry together, and their footsteps
took them past the stables towards the kitchen garden.

It was very cold out, and half--melted snow lay in patches at the
north sides of the buildings. The path was muddy, and William
grimaced as the cold mud worked its way inside his shoes. "I
shall be glad when spring is here," he said.

"Because then you will be sending my lady home?" Mel said, and
William looked at him, startled.

"No, I--I don't think she will be leaving then."

"Ah. Then you plan to send her home with John By the Way and
myself, when he goes to marry the princess."

"No--I am not planning on sending her home at all. I mean, I hope
this is her home now."

Mel growled, "This is not her home. She has no position in this
place. At least as a servant she would have honorable duties--as
it stands she is little more than a harlot."

William stopped walking. "I will not allow you to speak of
Katherine that way. She is an honorable woman."

"She was an honorable woman. She was a chaste and virtuous woman.
You bring her here and she becomes reviled, wanton, a Jezebel
where she had always been like unto Rachel or even the Blessed
Mother herself. I don't know what you said to her that convinced
her this folly was a wise decision, but I know it must have
convinced the angels themselves, to turn a God--fearing woman
from her beliefs to this--this--disgrace. It is a disgrace. Her
father would kill you if he knew."

"Katherine made her own decision," William said, trying to keep
his temper. "I neither said nor did anything to lure her against
her will."

"You seduced her."

"I will marry her the very hour she agrees to it, if she wishes,
but though I have offered her my hand--my name--my lands--
anything she desires that is in my power to give her--she has
refused."

"What if you get her with child?" Mel said contemptuously. "Will
you be so adoring then?"

William shut his mouth firmly. His feelings on the subject were
not something he wished to share with this man who hated him. He
said finally, "If Katherine gets with child I will be the first
to rejoice."

"You say that as if you mean it."

"I do mean it. I love her. And as much as you dislike me--as much
as you think I am a libertine and a sensualist--that fact
remains. I love her. I will not stop loving her because I am told
it is wrong. I will not stop loving her until the day I die."

"Pretty words," Mel sneered. "What do you know of love? Of years
of devotion, of watching her grow and learn and suffer and
triumph? What do you know of her soul?"

"I know it," William said, his voice low. "Perhaps not as long as
you, but just as deeply. Just as fully. Just as she knows me.
There is nothing you can say that will convince me loving her is
wrong."

"You do not deserve her," Mel said.

"You're right. I know that well. And I thank God every day that
she deigns to even spend time with me. I have never had a truer
friend or a sweeter companion." He added, "No man deserves the
woman he loves. It is almost inevitable that she outrank him in
every aspect: in character, in virtue, in intellect. Katherine
makes me want to be a better man, in order to deserve her."

Mel stared at him, then said quietly, "I truly do not understand
you, William Wolf's Son. If you think so highly of her, why will
you not marry her, at the very least?"

"I will not force her to take such a step before she is ready or
willing."

"I think it would be better for all involved if you convinced her
to return with me. We would not have to mention this--interlude--
to her father."

"Is she ashamed of me?" William said. "Does she think he would
disapprove of me?"

"He would disapprove of this arrangement. She says I should tell
her family the truth of why she is staying, but I refuse to ruin
her family's opinion of her that way."

"I would hope her family is happy that she is safe and well--
protected."

"I will leave out the details."

"I would prefer you honor her wishes and tell them the truth. She
is not ashamed. I am not ashamed---"

"You should be."

"This is pointless," William exclaimed. "You refuse to believe
anything but the worst about me. You will not be happy for
Katherine. You cannot even admit that we are in love."

"You believe you love her. I think even she does not know what
she feels for you. This thing you call love for her is a pale,
weak thing compared to my lord Walter. He gave her everything:
his name, his kingdom, his lands--"

"His bastard son to raise," William said, and Mel's face
reddened.

"Sir, you know nothing of the circumstances--"

"I know that he betrayed their marriage vows. That is enough to
condemn him in my mind."

"You do not impress upon me that you have a greater moral
character."

"I have never betrayed nor caused another to betray their vows. I
agreed to this arrangement only because she would have me no
other way. I will devote every hour of the rest of my life to her
happiness. I will never harm or dishonor her. Even your own
former lord could not say as much."

"Do not speak ill of my lord Walter," Mel said from between
clenched teeth.

"I cannot admire him as you do," William said. "He was not a
saint, for all his goodness."

"He was a far better man than you," Mel spat. "He was just--he
was kind--he loved Kate from the start--"

"But not until the end, apparently," said William, and Mel made
as if he intended to take a swing at him.

But they were not alone, and before Mel could act Katherine was
between them. "My dear friends," she said, taking a gentle hold
of Mel's arm. "May I join you for your walk?"

"I was just leaving," Mel said, and bowed to Katherine stiffly
before stalking away.

William bit his lip and waited for Katherine to speak, but she
only sighed and wrapped her shawl more tightly around her. They
began to walk slowly up the path, back towards the buildings of
Weylin.

Finally he said, "Did you look at my pictures?"

"I did."

"What did you think?"

She smiled, watching the muddy path. "I thought they were lovely.
I like the ones you made of Quaid."

"I like drawing him. We will want to remember what he looked like
as a baby. I will want to remember," he corrected himself, and
Katherine sighed again.

"William, come with me," she said, holding out her hand.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere we may speak in peace. Come." Her hand remained
patiently waiting, and he put his own in hers. She led him into
the great shed where raw wool was stored. "I love this place,"
she said, closing the door behind them. "Have you ever lain on
this pile, William? It's like lying on a cloud."

"Not since I was a boy."

"Come," she said again, and climbed up the ladder to the top of
the pile. After a moment he followed her, and watched with
amusement as she threw herself, laughing, onto the enormous pile
of wool. She smiled up at him and held out her arms. "Join me,
William."

"Yes, madame," he said, and jumped from the top of the ladder
onto the pile. The wool shifted and gave beneath them, but held
them comfortably, softer than a featherbed. He rolled into her
arms and lay his head on her shoulder, and she kissed his hair
and stroked his face.

"I heard a great deal of what you said."

"Mel hates me," William said. "I am convinced of it. And he loves
you desperately."

"Don't be absurd. He is protective of me, certainly. But we have
known each other since we were children."

"All the more reason. He despises me."

"Don't speak nonsense, my dear. I would like very much if you
would not take seriously what Mel says to you. Perhaps he does
dislike you, but . . ." She paused, and William turned onto his
stomach and looked at her, waiting. She smiled and played her
fingers through his hair. "But *I* like you, William."

Of course that made him smile, and he kissed her with great
tenderness. "I like you too," he whispered, and her responding
sigh was of a different tenor, a sound which with he was becoming
increasing familiar. It made his smile broaden, and he kissed the
base of her neck where it met her shoulder. "I like you very
much," he said in a low voice, and she gave a responding chuckle.

"William, dearest, it's the middle of the day."

"So it is. And here we are in the wool shed. And I should be
tending to plans for tomorrow's hunt, and you should be . . ."

"Helping with the laundry."

"Helping with the laundry. Yes. Wouldn't you rather sport with
me, my love?"

Katherine's sea--colored eyes were dark, and filled with such
tenderness that made his heart soar. "Yes," she whispered,
slipping her hand into his hair to cup the back of his head.
"Kiss me."

"Happily," he said, and obeyed her. He was always stunned at the
many tastes he found within her mouth, as if she were formed from
the most exotic sugars and the sweetest of fruits. Roses, he
thought as he pressed his face against her hair, it's the middle
of winter and she still smells of roses.

She pushed him gently onto his back and moved to kneel over him.
He watched her hungrily as she uncovered her bosom and bared
herself to the waist, and she gently leaned down and teased her
breasts against his lips. She moaned when he captured one dark
nipple between his lips and gave it an insistent tug. He sat up
to reach her more easily, and spread his hands over her arching
back to hold her up as he suckled her.

Oh, the little sounds she made were enough to drive a man insane.
Sighs and moans and whimpers and his name, spoken with rapture
and desire. Her hips ground against his and she stroked his hair
and his back and his neck, kissing him and biting him gently.

He looked up at her face and realized there was more to her
boldness than making love here, where they could be so easily
discovered. Always before they had made love in the shelter of
darkness, learning each other by touch and sound and taste rather
than sight. She had been shy about allowing him to see her body.

"What is it?" she whispered, cupping his face in her hands. "Is
something wrong?"

"You're letting me see you," he said. "I can see your face." He
ran his fingers delicately over her shoulder and down her arm.
"You're so pretty, Kate. I've never seen skin such as yours."

She blushed and said, casting down her eyes, "As long as it is
pleasing to you, my lord."

He put his finger beneath her chin and gently nudged her face
upwards until their eyes met again. "Everything about you pleases
me. My sweetest, prettiest, most lovely of all Kates."

Her eyes slipped closed and she tilted back her head, and he
leaned forward to kiss the base of her neck, the dip between her
collar bones, the warm secret valley between her breasts, down
her body as she leaned back to grant him access, until he reached
her center, which was warm and wet and so delicious. She writhed
and moaned as he pleasured her, with her skirts bunched up about
her waist and her still--stockinged legs trembling on either side
of his head.

He lifted his mouth from her and she moaned with despair.
"Will..."

"You had started something, dearest, I wonder if you would like
to finish it."

She gazed at him in bewilderment, then a smile crept over her
lips, and she rose up onto her knees and crawled up his body as
he lay back. "Lazy," she whispered, uncovering his member with
gentle hands.

"Yes." His head fell back and he moaned as she took him into her,
and his hands grasped her hips to pull her down even further.
"Oh. Yes. Yes. Very lazy."

"Very, very lazy." Her hips began to rock, and their hands
clasped and their fingers intertwined. "Just for that, William,
I'm taking my time."

"As you wish." William gasped, and Katherine bent to crush his
mouth with a kiss. She held his hands down as he had done to her
before, and she smiled wickedly.

"Do you love me, William?" she whispered. "Do you worship and
adore me?"

"Yes. Yes."

"Do you want me to live with you forever?"

"Yes."

"And you will never stop loving me?"

"Never, Kate. Never."

"I believe you," she said, closing her eyes. "I believe you,
William." She began to move faster, and she let go of his hands
so that she could touch his face. He opened his mouth to her
fingers and sucked on her fingertips, and slipped his hands
beneath her skirts to cup her bottom.

"Open your eyes," he begged. "I want to see your eyes, Katie."

She forced her eyes open as he asked. I could drown in those
eyes, he thought, and pushed himself up and pulled her down to
kiss her mouth. There was no part to her that was not beautiful,
inviting, luscious like the sweetest morsel on a feasting table.
And oh, the way she moaned into his ear and her fingers dug into
his shoulders and her body shuddered and her inner muscles
gripped and massaged him--

"Oh, God!" he shouted and thrust up into her, and she groaned in
response and collapsed onto him.

William wrapped his arms around her sweaty back and ran his hand
lightly over her hair. "I'm not too heavy, am I?" she whispered,
and he chuckled.

"Not at all."

She chuckled as well and they lay there, holding each other.

"You know," he said eventually, "I've never done anything like
this."

"Oh?"

"Yes. We could be discovered so easily. I've never taken such a
chance."

Katherine gave a low laugh, sat up and tossed her hair over her
shoulder. She'd braided the front locks and joined the braid at
the back of her head, but the rest of the golden--red curtain
hung loose down her back. It made her look, William thought, like
a maiden fresh from a cloister. "We could be discovered," she
said. "I think that's why I like it. Oh, William, I want you
everywhere. In the woods, in the fields, on the beach. I want you
to take me like a peasant in the open air."

He moaned at the thought and kissed the fingers she ran over his
lips. She looked like a convent girl, he thought with a smile,
but certainly didn't talk like one. "You've become brave," he
said softly, sitting up to kiss her white shoulders.

"You make me brave." She made a satisfied sound as he kissed her,
running her hands through his hair. "You make me want to be what
I never dared to be."

"What is that?"

"Free," she whispered, and smiled. "Absolutely free."

He cupped her face in his hand, and she opened her eyes. "Yes,"
he said quietly. "I want to set you free." She smiled and kissed
him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Katherine," he
whispered, breaking the kiss gently, "Katie---if you--if you
think it would be better---"

"What is it, dearest?" She stroked the side of his face with
gentle fingers.

"If you want to go. . ."

"William," she began.

"No, I mean it. If you want to go back to your people, if that's
what you need--"

"William. What I need is you." She kissed him again tenderly. "I
need *you,* William." She kissed him again, then again and again,
and then gently began to extricate herself from him. "But Quaid
needs me, so I must go. The milk is coming in."

"Ah," William said, and watched her rearrange her clothing until
she looked respectable and dignified again. He sighed. "It's
going to be hours before I can see you again."

"Occupy yourself, the time will fly."

"I will spend every minute thinking of you."

She smiled at him and knelt down to kiss him, and pushed his hair
out of his eyes. "Tonight," she said, and slid down from the pile
of raw wool like a child sliding down a snowy hill.

William grinned and dressed himself as well, slid down the pile
and followed her out of the shed.

Mel barely said goodbye to Katherine on the dock, and John looked
uncomfortably after him once he'd climbed aboard the ship. "My
lady," he said, "perhaps he reaches his homeland again--"

She shook her head. "Take him home, John. I think I have lost him
as a friend."

John's eyes turned sorrowful, and he took her hand gently. "When
Anna Rose and I return, should I call you Mother?" he said,
trying to smile.

She returned the smile and squeezed his hand. "I would prefer you
call me Kate, as my other friends do," she said gently, and
bestowed a kiss on his cheek. "Take good care of my Anna," she
whispered, and he nodded and kissed her hand.

"We will return by spring," he said, and boarded the ship.

"This is becoming a familiar scene," William said as they watched
the ship pull away from the dock.

"Not much more often, I hope. There is no one else for me to send
on." She gave a choked sort of laugh and said, "The next time I
see my daughter she is going to be a wife. By this time next year
I may be a grandmother. It is very strange, William."

"I am excited to meet her. John says she is much like you."

"Perhaps we are. I feel as if it's been years since I've seen
her. And she will bring news of Harry, I long to hear how he is."
She turned to William and put her arms around his waist. "I hope
my family will not be too disappointed that I have not come."

"I am certain they miss you. Perhaps we ought to plan a journey
for you, later this year."

"Perhaps," she said, nodding, and then stood up on her toes to
kiss him. "But not until much later, and not for very long."

His eyes slipped to half--closed and he said softly, framing her
face in his hands, "No, not for long."

~~Fourteen~~

Spring. Spring at last. The sun was warm and the winds were
gentle, the fields were filled with newly budded grains. Lambs,
calves, piglets and colts gamboled in the stable yard. The rains
were mild and the fish were plentiful, and the people of Weylin
were content.

None more than Katherine and William. He brought her the first
flowers of the fields and the first fruits of the orchard. She
massaged his sore muscles and read to him, and tried not to be
bashful when he wanted to draw her. They spent hours outdoors,
walking in the nearby woods, and when they got caught in the rain
they ran laughing to the temporary shelter of trees, and kissed
beneath the dripping branches. They played with Quaid, who could
sit up by himself and had started to hitch himself across the
floor towards familiar faces. They sang together and told
stories, played at riddles and spent hours talking of their
deepest dreams and fondest desires. They often slept on the beach
beneath the stars, and held each other tightly on as they slept
on the soft blanket.

William's body was becoming leaner and sunburned brown from his
work in the fields. Katherine loved the taste of his skin when he
came in at evening, of salt and sweat and the outdoors. She loved
to join him in the bath or be joined, to make love in a tub full
of warm water scented with lavender flowers. She loved to turn to
him when they slept on the beach and make love to him in the
moonlight. She loved to caress and pet him, to watch him sleep,
to feel his deep chuckle and the eagerness in his hands when she
woke him up with kisses. She felt utterly safe in his arms, as if
no harm could ever touch her again.

She so wanted to believe that this was true. If it were just a
question of always remaining in the safety of his arms she would
never leave their shelter--but, she often thought wryly, one
could not spend every hour of every day making love, no matter
how much one wanted to. And there were, of course, as always,
other considerations.

Every day she expected news that somehow FitzJames had heard of
their deception and was even now marching against Weylin, or even
against her father. News of visitors sent her heart to pounding
with fear until she heard who the visitors were. And even then
she worried, for any of William's friends could also know
FitzJames and let fall a careless word about his new lady--and a
red--haired woman named Katherine, surely he would suspect . . ?

William, as far as she could tell, never gave it a thought. It
was as if, to him, there was no reason to fear, and on an almost
weekly basis she vowed to follow his example and not worry so
much. But then the night would come and he would be asleep in her
arms, and like goblins lurking in the corners of her mind the
worries would come. William, bless him, often awoke when her
worries were at their worst, and would kiss her and whisper to
her that she had nothing to fear. And for that moment, she would
believe him.

But as spring advanced it grew more difficult to dwell on dark
thoughts. When the sun was shining gently on her shoulders and
warm on her face, and her baby was playing beside her on the
grass, and William was tracing the petals of a flower over her
lips and smiling tenderly, it seemed there was no evil anywhere
in the world. And certainly no evil that could touch her.

It was very late one night in the beginning of May, when they
were awakened by pounding on William's chamber door. William rose
from their bed and pulled on a shirt, and went to answer the
door. The noise had awakened Quaid as well, and Katherine put on
a wrap and lifted him from his cradle to rock him back to sleep.

It was one of William's yeomen at the door, and the two men spoke
in low voices for a few moments. The yeoman saluted William and
left, and William lit a candle and started to dress more fully.

"Will? What is it?"

"Guests have arrived, and I will go to greet them. You might want
to rise as well."

"Must I?" She grimaced at the thought of greeting more strangers.

He smiled at her as he pulled on his shoes. "Only if you wish to,
dearest. But I think your daughter would like to see a familiar
face in this strange place."

"Anna Rose? She's here? Why didn't you say so?" She kissed Quaid
and gave him to William, and hastily dressed herself as William
dressed Quaid. They hurried downstairs to greet the new arrivals.

She recognized John's slim figure at once, but who was this tall
slender woman? "Mother!" she cried, and threw her arms around
Katherine and kissed her.

"Anna Rose," Katherine whispered, and embraced her daughter
tenderly. When had she changed from a girl to a woman? Had she
always been so beautiful?

Katherine held out a hand to John, who was smiling tenderly and
proudly at them, and he took her hand gently. "I am so happy to
see you. So glad that at last you have returned--and brought my
little girl home to me."

"It is good to be home," John said, and put his arm around Anna
Rose's waist. "Or nearly home."

"You will stay with a few days, won't you, before going on?"

"As long as William will have us," said John.

"Maybe not that long," Anna Rose said. "I want to see my new
home." She noticed William for the first time, who was standing
aside holding Quaid, and she exclaimed, "Oh, is this my brother?"

"Mine Anna, this is Quaid," Katherine said, taking the baby from
William's arms. Brother and sister regarded each other for a
moment, then Quaid reached out his arms and Anna Rose took him
happily and kissed him.

"He has Father's eyes," she whispered, her own eyes damp, and
Katherine nodded and took William's hand. He smiled at her and
squeezed her hand gently--and Katherine noticed that Anna Rose
saw that gesture and smiled as well.

"We have a bed prepared for you," William said. "There's not much
privacy, I'm afraid, but we are rather full right now."

"That's all right," John said. "Isn't it, my dear?"

"Yes, it's fine." She kissed Quaid's chubby neck again and handed
him back to Katherine. She embraced Katherine for a moment again,
and kissed her once more.

"We will talk more in the morning," Katherine said, and Anna Rose
nodded, and taking her husband's hand, followed him to bed.

When Katherine and William were again in their own bed, he said
quietly, "They do seem happy."

"I am glad to see it." She traced lazy circles on William's
chest.

"I have not seen John so content for many years." His hand began
tracing similar patterns on her back, and she smiled and moved up
to kiss his face.

"It would appear marriage agrees with him," she whispered.

"It often is an agreeable state," he said. "Are you certain you
don't wish to follow their example?"

Katherine sighed. They had this conversation, or some variation
of it, almost daily as well. She whispered, "Not now, William,"
and kissed him until he was trembling and forgot all about
questions.

Not until after breakfast were Katherine and Anna Rose alone
together, along with Quaid of course. They climbed the hill above
Weylin and spread a blanket to sit on and for Quaid to play on,
and spent several minutes looking out at the sea, their arms
around each other's shoulders.

"We first heard you were dead," Anna Rose said quietly. "That
FitzJames had had you whipped, and that you had died from it."

"He did have me whipped."

"Oh, Mother." Anna Rose's arm tightened around her.

"William told FitzJames that I died, and he hid me and took me
away."

"He seems like a good man, our William."

"Yes. He is a good man."

Anna Rose removed some grass from Quaid's plump fist, and said,
"I like John. From the first moment I saw him, I thought, Here is
a man I can admire. My uncles like him. Grandfather likes him,
very much. I am glad William sent him as a messenger, instead of-
-I don't know--someone I would not like so much."

"I am glad too. It was a fortuitous choice. Tell me how Harry is,
is he doing well?"

"He misses you. He misses Quaid as well, I think he was attached
to him."

"They did play together a good deal."

"He speaks often of getting a piece of land, and raising turnips
and children. That seems to be the extent of his ambition now."

Katherine nodded, unsurprised. "And what does my father think of
this?"

"He accepts it," Anna Rose said with a shrug. "I think he will
support Harry is ever decides to fight for his birthright, but as
long as he does not wish to, he will not push him."

"Perhaps we need to recover longer, before we make plans to win
back your father's throne."

"Mother . . ."

"I will not allow that man to hold onto what belongs to your
brother. And lands that belong to you, as your rightful dowry."

"John has never said a word to me about a dowry."

"He did not ask for one, but Anna Rose, you need a source of your
own income. I hate not having lands of my own. FitzJames took
even those."

"Mother," Anna Rose said hesitantly, "tell me why I was married
in such haste. No one will tell me the full truth."

Katherine sighed and ran her hand gently over her daughter's dark
hair. "It all goes back to FitzJames, mine Anna. He thought that
marrying you would be a gesture of peace."

"He wanted to marry me? But he's as old as Grandfather."

"I know. But it would solidify his claim on the throne."

"So you married me to John to save me from FitzJames."

"Essentially."

"Essentially?"

"John was not my first thought."

"So who was?"

"William."

Anna Rose stared at her, and said, "William? But you and he--I
mean, perhaps I am making assumptions--"

"No. You're not making assumptions. This was before I realized
the depth of his feelings for me, however. It was my suggestion
that he marry you that prompted him to tell me how he feels."

"He loves you?" Anna Rose said, smiling. "He truly loves you,
Mother?"

"Yes." She could feel herself blushing as if she were a starry--
eyed girl again, and she allowed some of her hair to fall in
front of her face.

"I wondered why you didn't return with Mel. To stay here with
William--how romantic, Mother."

"Oh, I don't know if it's romantic . . . did Mel tell my father
why I stayed?"

She stretched out her arms and leaned back on her elbows, and
said, "Not in my hearing. It's rather amusing, actually, how much
they sheltered me, while you and Father always talked about
everything before us."

"Not quite everything," Katherine said.

"Are you going to tell me now?"

"No," Katherine said, shaking her head, and Anna Rose gave a soft
laugh.

"Then at least tell me that William is kind and wonderful as well
as handsome."

"He is kind. He is wonderful. And he is handsome from his head to
his feet." She smiled as Anna Rose laughed.

"As is John," she said, and they both laughed.

"He said nothing to you of it?" William shook his head in
surprise. "Nothing at all?" They were walking in the garden.
William could see a bright patch on the hill above, Katherine and
Anna Rose talking on the hillside. It felt good to see them
there. Reassuring.

"Nothing. He was disappointed that Katherine didn't come home, of
course, but he did not ask me why she had stayed. I think the
assumption sill was that Quaid is too young still to travel, and
she is waiting for him to be strong enough to travel." John
waited for William to respond, and when he said nothing, he
added, "I did not feel it was my place to give the real reason."

"That is the real reason. One of them. I'm not sure how I feel
about lying to her family."

"It isn't lying, don't you think? It's simply not telling them
more than they need to know, especially if it would only upset
them."

"I would rather give them good news, that's true enough." He
sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Have you heard any
news from FitzJames?"

"Well, the last His Highness heard from him, FitzJames was not
pleased that Anna Rose had refused him, but there was no other
news. I am more surprised that you haven't heard from him."

"No, I have heard nothing since the fall. But then, that often
happens, I hear nothing for months and then he turns up one
morning wanting me to join him for some campaign or another."

"You wouldn't go, would you?"

"No, I wouldn't. Nonetheless, this silence from him worries me. I
wish I knew better what is going on."

"Perhaps you ought to send a message to him."

"I don't want to attract his attention just now, though."

"So you wait."

"So I wait."

"And what of your lady? You can't just wait until FitzJames
appears to act, you must take precautions to protect her."

"But what would you have me do, John? I can think of no action I
could possibly take that would not end in disaster. It is better
to just not draw his attention to Weylin, not until I am ready to
face him on a battelfield. Preferably with help from Katherine's
father. Which," he added, "won't happen if he discovers Katherine
and I are lovers."

"I don't know," John said thoughtfully. "He might be more
understanding. And he loves his daughter very much."

"Nonetheless, I will not send any word until I have good news to
give. I would not expect anything to happen until late summer."

"Including the marriage?"

"I don't know if that's ever going to happen." He looked back up
at the bright patch on the hillside.

"But if there's a child--"

"I hope there is a child, that may be the only thing to convince
her. I try not to think about the future, it only upsets her. I
will act when the need arises, but until then . . ." He shrugged.
"Until then, I live from day to day. It seems to make her happy,
and if she is happy, what more have I to ask?"

"You're a lucky man," John said.

"I hope that luck remains," William answered.

It was a good day for a picnic. John and Anna Rose would be going
on to his home the next day, and Katherine wanted to do something
to bid them farewell, even though Anna Rose reminded her they
would only be two days apart. But Katherine got together some
cold meat and bread and cheese and fruit in a basket, and a jug
of cold milk and a bottle of ale, and the five of them went out
to the meadow.

After they had eaten, John dozed off with his head in Anna Rose's
lap, and William amused Quaid while Katherine enjoyed the
sunshine, her eyes closed.

"You know what strikes me as odd," Anna Rose said.

"Hm?"

"How none of us saw this a year ago. None of us thought a year
ago that I would be married or that we would have new friends we
never imagined knowing . . ."

"No. None of us imagined it." Katherine opened her eyes to look
at William, who was talking seriously to Quaid about which
flowers he should not eat. He glanced at her and winked, and she
smiled back and held out her arms. "Give me that rascal,
William."

"He's putting everything brightly colored into his mouth," he
said, handing over Quaid, who babbled enthusiastically and
grabbed a fistful of Katherine's hair, which went straight into
his mouth.

"Are you eating the daisies, you silly child?" She lifted Quaid
up and rubbed her nose against his, and he laughed and clapped
his hands. "And are they tasty? As tasty as my hair, it would
seem." She gently worked his chubby fingers open and removed her
hair from his grip.

"I hope my babies are as pretty as Quaid," Anna Rose said softly,
and Katherine smiled at the joyful expression that crossed John's
face.

A thoughtful expression crossed William's, and he lay down on his
back and put his arm over his eyes.

Katherine did not miss that reaction either, and she mulled over
the suspicion she had been harboring the last few days. Now was
not the time to mention it, however. She wanted to be more
certain before she shared it with anyone.

So she said merely, "All babies are pretty, mine Anna, especially
to their mothers."

"We shall have very pretty babies," John said softly, looking at
Anna Rose with great tenderness, and Anna Rose ran her hand
through his hair.

Katherine watched them, pleased. That they were friends was
apparent, and he deferred to her and considered her first in all
things. He spoke to her gently, and did not, Katherine was glad
to see, laugh at her as husbands sometimes did to young wives;
nor did he treat her as if she were too simple or too innocent to
fully comprehend his world. He respected her opinions and her
thoughts. And his eyes followed her as she moved about, with a
light that assured Katherine he was as tender with Anna Rose when
they were alone as when they were in company.

On the whole, she was quite pleased. It had not been an obvious
match, but it was a wise one. Anna Rose had done well.

As always, her thoughts soon turned to William, who had turned
onto his side and was now tempting Quaid to crawl to him. She
released Quaid from her arms and the baby crawled across the
blanket to William and braced his arms on William's chest in an
attempt to stand. William's hand hovered near Quaid's backside
should he fall, and his eyes met Katherine's and he smiled a tiny
bit.

He has no reason to love this child, Katherine thought as she
returned his smile, yet he does. He had no reason to help me, yet
he did. He has helped my family, he has protected my children,
all to great risk to himself. He has given me shelter and comfort
and hope.

I love him, she thought, and wondered at herself. It did not feel
like a grand revelation--more like something she had known for a
while but refused to acknowledge. But she knew it was true,
simply and honestly true, like knowing the sky is blue and that
water is wet. As if the fates had known on the day of his birth
what would please her, he had been formed sweet and gentle and
strong--and handsome, let's not forget--and she could not stop
herself from loving him, she was helpless in the face of his
perfection and even his imperfections.

Quaid came crawling across the blanket back to her, and looked up
at her inquisitively. "Yes, little one?" she said, taking his
hands, and he stood up on his wobbly plump legs and crowed in
delight. "Look at you! Standing all by yourself. You're getting
so good at it."

"He'll be running around before we know it," William said, and
there was something in his eyes that made Katherine want to
cuddle him as she did Quaid and kiss his sadness away. She
reached over towards him and gently touched the side of his face,
and he caught her hand and kissed it gently. She patted his
cheek.

"When he's strong enough I want you to teach him to ride," she
said, and his eyes lit up. "I want you to teach him everything
you know."

"I think I can do that," he said softly, and Quaid grabbed at his
nose. William laughed and scooped him up, and held him over his
chest and shook him gently. "What are you doing, sweet boy? Hm?
Do you need something to play with?"

"Mother," Anna Rose said, "are those flags I see approaching?"

Katherine looked to where she was pointing, and her heart leapt
in her chest. She knew those banners, she had seen them before.
She got hastily to her feet and said, trying to keep her voice
from shaking and failing, "Someone's coming, William."

He looked too at the approaching banners, and said, "It's
Alexander! I was hoping he would come soon, he said he would.
Come, dearest, let's greet him."

"I think I need to get Quaid indoors," Katherine said, scooping
up her baby, and she kissed his warm soft head gently. Knowing
that it was a friend did nothing to ease the panic that filled
her. "Please give him my excuses." She hurried towards Weylin
with Quaid in her arms, leaving William stuttering after her in
confusion.

~~Fifteen~~

William and Alexander embraced warmly as soon as Alexander got
down from his horse. He had brought a large entourage with him,
soldiers and attendants, and William said, "I'm not sure where
we're going to put all your people."

"They can camp in the fields, we won't be staying for long."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Our lord requires your presence, I have come to fetch you."
He grinned at William's surprise. "Have you forgotten? You
promised to visit him in the spring, and when you didn't come by
the first of May we started to get worried. He sent me to see
that you're all right---and still his loyal follower."

"Ah," William said. "Well. All in good time." He kept his arm
around Alexander's shoulders as they directed his men to make
themselves comfortable, and then took Alexander inside. "I should
like to see FitzJames but I have so many guests now, I don't like
to leave them."

"They can fend for themselves for a month or so, can't they,"
Alexander said, and then fell silent as he caught sight of John
and Anna Rose. William watched the expressions cross Alexander's
face, and then Alexander stepped forward, holding out both hands.

"John. My friend."

"Alexander," John said with equal warmth, and they shook hands.
"The winter has been kind to you."

"To you as well, it appears," Alexander said. "Who is this
vision?"

John laughed, and Anna Rose rolled her eyes but smiled
nonetheless. "This is Anna Rose. My wife. The daughter of Walter
and Katherine," John said, and took Anna Rose's hand.

"My lady," Alexander said, and bowed to her.

"Lord Alexander," Anna Rose said quietly. "It is good to meet you
at last. We will welcome any friend of my mother's to our home,
any time you wish to come."

Her words were lost on none of them, and William had to wonder at
the flush that crept over Alexander's cheeks. All Alexander said,
however, was "Thank you, good lady," and the couple bowed to him
and left--going towards, William noted, the chamber where he was
certain Katherine was hiding herself.

Alexander turned to William and said softly, "You have not sent
her home."

"It was not entirely my choice," William said.

"She chose to stay with you?"

"Yes."

Alexander shook his head. "This is very dangerous business. It
was one thing when you were taking pity on her, spiriting her
away to prevent injustice--but William, you must think of your
people, of yourself."

"I do think of my people," William said. "And I do think of
myself, but Katherine comes first."

"She belongs at her own home. She belongs with her own people."

"This is her home. We are her people. This is where she wants to
be and I am not going to send her away, Alexander, I want her
here."

"And what are you going to tell FitzJames about your new lady?"

William often wondered that himself. He said quietly, "I don't
know. Many things have changed since we last spoke, not the least
of which is Katherine's place in my life. But you must
understand, there is no one more important than Katherine and
nothing more important than her happiness. I will do nothing to
jeopardize either."

He could see Alexander turn this over in his mind, and finally
Alexander said, "Very well. It is, of course, your decision,
though I must urge caution. I will return to FitzJames, but I do
not know how I will explain your absence to him."

"You will not need to. I do want to see him. I want to make a
proposal to him."

"What sort of proposal?"

"I will tell you when I have formed it more fully." He put his
arm back around Alexander's shoulders. "Come, let's go visit
Katherine. She will be glad to see you, I'm certain." He guided
Alexander upstairs to the solarium.

Katherine had Quaid in her lap, and looked up from playing with
him slowly. William had never seen her look so fearful, but she
tried to smile when they entered the room. She rose, holding
Quaid to her protectively, and all other conversation in the room
paused as she walked towards them.

"My dear," William said gently, "you remember my friend
Alexander, don't you?"

"I do. Greetings, my lord. Welcome to Weylin."

"My lady." He bowed to her, and she curtseyed in return.

"Please, join us for a while. Unless you would like to rest from
your journey."

"I would prefer to rest, my lady," Alexander said, "but I would
be happy to pass time with you later. Excuse me." He bowed to her
again, and said to William, "Where can I lie down for a while,
William?"

It was not by Katherine's choice that she was alone with
Alexander, but he joined her in her closet uninvited that
evening. She greeted him quietly and went on sewing. Quaid was
growing so quickly he needed a new garment every week, it seemed.

"Why have you not joined the others downstairs, my lady?"
Alexander said, sitting on the floor at her feet, beside Quaid's
cradle.

"I did not wish to disturb Quaid's nap. My presence is not
required at all times, at any rate."

"It denies William the chance to show off before you."

Katherine glanced at him, but his face was smooth and
expressionless. She said, "Why have you not joined them?"

"I dislike games." He slipped a finger into Quaid's tight grasp,
and smiled fondly. "It seems to me William enjoys playing the
role of father."

"I hope it is more than playing."

"I wonder. Knowing William as I do, of course, I must question
how long his interest will remain."

Katherine lowered her sewing and said as calmly as she could, "My
lord, you obviously have come here to tell me something. I would
appreciate it if you would come out and say it rather than hint
around it."

"Katherine, dear lady, has it ever occurred to you what will
become of you, should anything happen to William?"

"Of course I have. I am not a fool."

"Alone in the world, no one to protect you . . ."

"I am hardly alone in the world."

"But you are far from home. And you only have one friend here--"

"I have many friends," Katherine said coldly, getting to her
feet. "What exactly are you implying here? Are you threatening
William?"

"Why would I threaten my friend?" Alexander said, smiling at her
in a way that brought goosebumps to her arms, and he gracefully
stood and faced her. "I am merely pointing out that a woman in
your position can never have too many friends."

"What are you suggesting," Katherine whispered, though she knew
full well what he meant.

He continued smiling at her, and he said softly, drawing one
finger delicately down her arm, "We are alone, Katherine, and are
likely to be for some time. And you are more beautiful now than
you were when we first met."

"You're trying to seduce me," Katherine said quietly, "and you're
doing a very bad job."

The smile left his face at last, and he said harshly, "Very well,
my lady. Lie with me and I won't tell FitzJames that you still
live and that William has been hiding you."

She drew in her breath sharply, and a tremor shook through her.
"That is an insult to me and an insult to my lord. How dare you
speak to me this way--how dare you!"

"I think you ought to remember your life and his are in my hands.
And what about the little laddie, eh? What happens to him if
William dies? If you die, what happens to the boy?"

It took all her strength to keep from shaking as she said, "I
thought you were a good man."

"I'm better than a good man. I'm a smart man. And I know where
the power lies, I think you should keep that in mind as well. You
are not in a position to negotiate."

"Touch me and I shall scream," Katherine whispered.

"They won't hear you above their revels."

He was standing too close to her. She could barely breathe. She
said, "Leave this room now. Leave Weylin tomorrow and I won't
tell William of your insolence."

In answer Alexander grabbed her by the back of her skull and
dragged her to him, and kissed her--a kiss with no tenderness, no
affection, nothing but the basest kind of desire. Katherine
shoved him away, and slapped him with her open palm. She was
trembling as he put his hand to his red cheek. "Leave," she
whispered, and when he did not move she shouted, "Leave!"

"Is that your final answer?"

"Would a dagger in the ribs be more convincing?"

He smiled at her again. "Very well, my lady. Very well. Good
evening." He bowed to her mockingly and left her chamber.

Katherine sank to the floor, her legs no longer able to support
her, and picked up Quaid from his cradle. He gave a startled
mewl, but then settled into sleep again as she rocked him and
kissed his sweet--smelling head and cried.

Somewhat disappointed that Katherine had chosen not to join them
again, William went up to his chamber. She had left a candle
burning for him but the chamber was otherwise dark, though he
could see the slight rise of her body beneath the covers. He bent
to check on Quaid, and then undressed and slipped into bed. He
embraced Katherine gently and kissed her bare shoulder.

She started and drew in her breath sharply, and said, "William?"

"Of course, dearest. Are you all right?"

"Yes, I--I'm sorry. I've been having strange dreams." She turned
to him and kissed his mouth gently, and wrapped her arms around
him.

"What sort of dreams?"

"Dreams I don't understand and don't like." She turned her face
up to him and stroked his chest with her open hand. "Kiss me,
William. Kiss me. Make the bad dreams go away."

He kissed her and held her to him tightly. "No more bad dreams,
beloved. I've got you. You're safe."

She tensed, and whispered, "I may be, but you are not."

"Katie?"

"William, as long as I am with you, you are not safe. Any threat
may come to you. You cannot trust anyone, not your friends, not
the people who claim to love you--"

"Katie, Katie." He kissed her again. "I am not afraid of any
threat that may come to me. It is only what threats that come to
you that frighten me."

"That is a careless and reckless way of thinking. William, do
something for me."

"Name it."

"Send Alexander and his people away. Do it tomorrow. Please. Send
him away."

"Dearest, he is one of my oldest friends. We've known each other
since we were children."

"He is no friend to you. He loves you not, William. He respects
you not. He--he--" She pressed her face against his shoulder, and
he felt dampness. Tears. He stroked her hair tenderly and kissed
her face.

"Tell me."

She shook her head. "Please, William. Just send him away."

"I can't send him away. He will leave soon, but I will go with
him."

"What?" she whispered, horrified.

"FitzJames requests my presence--I must go, Katie."

"You owe him no allegiance--tell Alexander to bring him your
regrets, tell him about the treaty with my father--don't go,
William, if you go you will surely never come back."

"Dearest, I must. I have an idea. I think I can bring peace
between your father and FiztJames. I think I can be a bridge
between them. I think at the very least I can get some of your
lands back for Anna Rose. Perhaps I can do more. After all,
despite everything I am still his heir."

"I have often wondered at that," she said quietly.

"I cannot turn myself away entirely. There is too much history."

For a long time she lay against him in silence as he stroked her
hair. Finally she sighed and said, "You cannot serve two masters,
William. It will tear you apart. You must choose who you will
serve, and who will best serve you. You expect the impossible,
wanting to bring peace between them."

"I must try."

"I fear you will die in the attempt."

"I will always come home to you, Katie."

Again she sighed, curling herself into a tiny bundle at his side.
"I pray that is so, beloved," she whispered, and while he was
stunned at her use of the endearment she began kissing him, and
she took him with a tenderness and ferocity that left him
shaking, but in no doubt about the depths of her care.

William decided to concede to her desires on one point, and even
though Alexander's people were weary he decided to begin their
journey back to Angria by the end of the week. He would take only
two of his own men with him, as well as his squire Kit. "I would
prefer to travel quickly," he told Alexander, who agreed this was
the wisest course.

Katherine, however, was not so easily convinced. "Two men are not
enough to protect you," she said as she oversaw his packing.

"Alexander has twenty people. We will be fine."

"They are Alexander's people, not your own. They will act on his
interests first."

"And Alexander's interests are my own. Dearest." He caught her
hands and pulled her into his lap, and kissed her frowning lips.
"I promise you, I will be gone from you a month at the most, and
I will return hale and hearty. We will laugh at your fears, my
love. You'll see."

"I hope we will laugh," she said, though there was no laughter in
her face now, and he sighed, wondering how to assure her.

After a moment he tugged off his heavy signet ring and picked up
her hand. "Katie," he said seriously. "Katherine. Wear this.
Think of me every time you look at it. You are my representative
while I am away, Katherine. You speak for me."

"William," she whispered, her eyes very wide, and he slipped the
ring onto her thumb. The women doing his packing had stopped
their gossip, and watched this action with stunned expressions.

"You are all witnesses," he said to them, and was pleased to see
that Margaret was smiling. He raised Katherine's hand to his
mouth and kissed it, and said to her, "There. Take care of things
until I return."

"I will," she whispered, and her eyes were sparkling with unshed
tears.

He decided it was time to try something he'd been working on a
while, and he said softly, "Taim i' ngra leat, Katie."

Her smile made the late nights and frustrations worthwhile, and
she kissed him. "When I return," he said, "we will continue the
lessons. And we will talk to each other in your language."

"I taught it to my children," she whispered, "and of course I
spoke it with Mel, but no one else has ever wanted to--not even
Walter--"

"It's only fair," he said. "You speak my language so well, better
than I. I thought at the very least I could learn to speak
yours."

"We will have much to discuss when you return," she said, and
leaned her cheek against his.

At last the morning of departure came, and Katherine stood
shivering in the morning light as last--minute preparations were
completed. "I shall miss you terribly," she said, holding
William's hand, her eyes downcast. "It has been so long since
we've been apart."

He kissed her hand that wore his ring, and said, "The days will
fly. I will be home before you start to miss me."

"I miss you already." The eyes that she raised to look at him
were filled with pain and tenderness, and he touched her cheek.

"I will hurry home to you. Kit will take good care of me," he
added more lightly, "won't you, son?"

"Of course, my lord," the boy said, struggling mightily not to
yawn. "Do you have any instructions for me, my lady?"

"Only to take care of my lord. Make certain he comes home to me."

"Of course, my lady."

"Come," Alexander cried, swinging up onto his mount. "The journey
is long and the day is wasting, William!"

"One moment," William said, and turned back to Katherine. "I must
go."

"I have something for you." She took a tiny object from within
the bosom of her gown, and handed it to him. It was a lock of her
hair, braided and tied at both ends with a bit of ribbon. "I know
it is only an old wives' tale," she said, "but they say it will
keep you safe, as long as you keep it on your body."

"I will wear it always," he said, tucking the lock within his
shirt, and kissed her one more time. He mounted his horse, and
followed Alexander and the rest of the company out of the
environs of Weylin.

They had been on the journey many days, and William could not
sleep. He was used to this, for his longing for Katherine was
very great. Nonetheless, something felt different about this
night. Something felt . . . wrong.

The fire had burned low when he heard the movement, like several
men trying to walk softly. His eyes snapped open and he looked
around the dark forest, and reached slowly for his sword. If they
were about to be set upon by thieves he would not be caught
unprepared.

One of his knights, Stephen, had volunteered for the watch, and
William caught sight of his familiar form. "Stephen?" No answer.
He rose from his bedroll and went to him, and touched his
shoulder. "Stephen, are you asleep?"

He watched in dismay as Stephen's body toppled from where it was
propped against a tree trunk. The handle of a dagger still
protruded from his chest, which was sticky with blood. "Oh, God,"
William whispered, and lowered Stephen's body carefully to the
ground. He went to his other man, Daniel, and found him in the
same state, a dagger in his ribs. "Oh, God," he whispered again,
and shook Kit, fearing the worst.

The boy opened his eyes and blinked at him in confusion. "My
lord?"

"Stephen and Daniel are dead, and I don't know where the other
men have gone. Dress, Kit, and prepare to flee." He began to
dress himself, his hands shaking. Kit stared at him for a moment,
then hastily followed him.

"Dead, my lord?" he whispered.

"Dead. Oh, God, where are the others?" He found the lock of
Katherine's hair, and kissed it gently before tucking it into his
shirt. I will come home to you, he thought. I will come home.
"Prepare the horses," he said to Kit, and the boy ran to obey
him.

There were footsteps all around him, and he struggled to see
their attackers in the blackness. "I'm armed," he announced,
clutching his sword, but still there was barely a sound beyond
that of men moving. They were close to him--so close--

"Run, Kit!" he screamed, as two pairs of arms gripped him and a
third pummeled into his chest and belly. "Run!" He heard
hoofbeats and the sound of pursuit, and he could only pray the
boy had gotten away, before the pain became overwhelming and the
night swallowed him.

~~Sixteen~~

The days were impossibly long without William. Actually, the days
were tolerable--she had companions and occupations, and the days
passed peacefully enough. The nights were the problem. She missed
him terribly. Their bed seemed vast and lonely, and she took to
bringing Quaid to bed with her for company. Being able to smell
his head and caress his plump arms and legs when she couldn't
sleep was infinitely comforting. Or she lay on her back and put
her hand on her belly, and wondered if what she suspected was
true or only a wish. She would know, by the time he returned.

She wrote to William, little notes that she knew he would never
read. But there was so much he would want to know when he
returned, and she wanted to remember everything.

"Quaid has discovered a new game, that if he crawls away quickly
we will chase him. He laughs as he crawls away, and he laughs
when we catch him. Margaret worries he will get into mischief
before we can catch him, but he never goes towards anything
dangerous. He runs away because he wants us to bring him back."

"Mark and Milly are so sweetly happy. He is tender with her,
which makes me glad. Young love does my heart good, but seeing
them happy together makes me miss you even more."

"I think Quaid is starting to learn our names. He has invented
names for us, at any rate. Edith is 'eeeee.' Milly, Margaret and
I are 'mamamamam,' but he says it differently when he wants to go
from Milly to Margaret or from Margaret to me. I also know that
he looks for you, and is puzzled that you are not here. I hope he
will remember you."

"I miss you, dearest. I miss the touch of your hand and the kiss
of your lips. I miss you every day and every night. I want
nothing more than for you to come home to me. Come home, William.
Come home quickly."

Even though she knew it was too soon to start watching for his
return, every day, around sunset, she would climb to the top of
the tower and watch for approaching banners. No one came.

Katherine jerked awake suddenly, and Quaid, asleep in her arms,
began to cry. "Shh, shh," she whispered softly, cradling him to
her bosom, and she kissed him and soothed him until he was sleep.

Her heart had not stopped pounding from the nightmare that awoke
her. Her hands were shaking so badly she didn't dare carry the
baby around, and she tucked him carefully under a blanket and
kissed him, and paced about the room, shoving her hands through
her hair.

The dream was too real. Too detailed. She could taste the blood
in her mouth, feel the pain in her ribs and her belly, feel his
fear as the strange men hurt him--

"Oh, God," she whispered, and fell to her knees. She clasped her
hands together and tried to speak, but her throat was closed with
tears. "God," she whispered, "God." She rocked back and forth on
her knees, pressing her clasped hands to her breast.

What was happening to her beloved? Who were these men? Why were
they hurting him? She hated feeling so helpless, not knowing if
it were true or merely a dream--oh, God, and if it were true--

Enough of this helpless weeping. She wiped her face with
determination and dressed herself and Quaid, and went down to the
main room where William's men slept. She went to his captain,
Henry, and gently shook him awake. "My lady?" he said sleepily.

"Henry, I want you to choose ten of your best men. We are going
to Angria."

"Now?"

"As soon as we are ready. Before sunrise, I would prefer."

"But what is wrong?"

"We have to bring my lord home. We have to go now. Please, Henry,
don't question me, just do it."

"But, my lady--"

"Please, Henry. His life depends on our speed."

He looked at her, puzzling, for a moment, then said, "Will you
also be coming, my lady?"

"Yes. Myself and the baby. A minimal accompaniment, Henry, we
must be going quickly. I'll wake Margaret."

He was already up and dressing himself. "We'll be ready by
sunrise, my lady. Make your preparations."

"Thank you, Henry." She thought, as she hurried to find Margaret,
Hold on, my love, hold on. We're coming for you.

They had tied his hands together, and then tied him to one of
their horses and forced him to run behind. They gave him nothing
to eat and only drips of water to drink. He could not see out of
his swollen eyes, but he knew their voices.

When they stopped for the night he fell to the ground and lay
there, unmoving. He heard someone approach him, and the person
knelt down beside him and untied his wrists from the rope that
bound him to the horse. William opened one eye as far as it
would, and rasped, "Why?"

Alexander's face was cold. "Because you are a fool, and I intend
to make FitzJames see it. You had everything, William, everything
you could ask for, and you throw it over for a woman. Granted,
she is the most beautiful women in the world, but she is still no
reason to give up your inheritance."

"You would kill me for her," William said.

"Not just her. For Angria. For Britain. FitzJames will make me
his heir out of gratitude, and when you are dead I will take the
fair Katherine for my own." He finished tightening the rope
around William's ankles with a ferocious tug, and William
groaned. "What do you think of that, William? And someday our son
will sit on the throne of a united Britain."

"If I don't kill you she will," William said, and Alexander
slapped him.

"You're not in a position to make threats, William. I am the
closest thing you have to a friend."

Had there been any moisture left in his mouth, he would have spat
in Alexander's face. As it was, he grimaced at him and turned his
face away.

"Sleep well, my friend," Alexander said. "Tomorrow we reach the
castle of FitzJames." He waited for William to respond, but then
finally sighed and stood up. He ordered one of his men to give
William some water, and William drank eagerly from the dipper
when at last it was held to his mouth.

How could he have done this, to his friend, his childhood
companion? Katherine would never allow Alexander to touch her,
much less conceive a child with her. She did not feel her beauty
was worth going to war over--she would hate that Alexander killed
to possess her. She would hate *him,* if she didn't already.

Oh, Katie, he thought with despair, I should have listened to
you. I should have sent him far away and stayed with you,
FitzJames be damned. I could be with you right now, holding you
in my arms, loving you--instead of wondering if I will live long
enough to see your sweet face once more--

He ached with the need to cry, but there was no water left in
him. And when he slept it brought him no peace.

Quaid did not like traveling. He did not like the heat, the dust,
or the rough roads. Katherine knew he really was too young to
make this journey, but she did not dare to leave him behind when
he was so dependent on her. Neither did she dare stay behind
herself--if her premonition came to nothing she would have to
explain their presence somehow.

She did not know how she was going to explain their presence, at
any rate. She could not walk into FitzJames's court as if it were
her own, just to be sure William was unharmed.

Well, she would deal with it as circumstances arose. First she
had to find William.

They had been on the road for three hard days, and they stopped
at sunset to make camp. She walked about the clearing they had
chosen, murmuring to Quaid and stroking his back to soothe him,
when she became aware of the sound of hoofbeats. She drew in her
breath quickly and moved towards the road, to see who was coming
so quickly. Behind her, she sensed Henry drawing near, and she
was reassured by his presence.

It was a lone rider, on a mount she recognized, and she cried,
"Kit!" as the horse tore past her.

"Whoa!" the rider cried, and reined the horse to a stop. "My
lady!" He all but fell of the horse as he dismounted, and he
stumbled to her and fell at her feet. "My lady--thieves--my lord-
-all dead--"

"Kit, Kit, slow down." She knelt down, shifting Quaid to one arm,
and put her other arm around Kit's shoulders. "What has
happened?"

"We were attacked, my lady--Stephen and Daniel were killed--" He
drew in a hitching breath. "They attacked my lord--he told me to
run--I should not have left him--"

"No, you did right, Kit. You can help us find him."

"But my lady, what if he's dead?" He looked up at her with a
dirty, tear--stained face.

"I'd know if he were," she whispered, stroking his cheek. "Come,
Kit, I know you are tired but we must go back. For my lord's
sake."

He nodded, gulping. "For my lord."

One of the soldiers had been inspecting Kit's horse, and he said,
"My lady, this mount can go no further, it's worn out."

"We can go nowhere tonight," she said. "We shall have to see how
it is doing in the morning."

"My lady," Henry said hesitantly, "I have an idea, if you are not
opposed."

"Tell me."

"Perhaps three of us could go on with Kit, and discover what
happened to my lord. The rest of you could wait until we are more
certain of news."

Katherine looked from his face to Kit's, and released a slow
breath. "Very well. And I will be one of the party."

"But, my lady, with the baby--"

"I must know," she whispered. "I must know what has happened to
him."

He nodded slowly. "Very well. Myself, my lady, Kit and Robert.
The rest of you will follow on in the morning."

Katherine put Quaid back into his sling and adjusted the sling on
her back. He protested sleepily, and she said to him, "I'm sorry,
sweetest, but we have to go on." She mounted her own horse
carefully, and watched as a weary Kit swung onto a fresh mount,
joined soon by Henry and Robert.

"My lady?" Henry said to her.

"I'm ready."

"We go, then." He dug his heels into his horse's side, and they
galloped onto the road, in the direction from which Kit had come.

The last time he had seen the castle of Walter the Bald, it had
been beautiful despite the siege they had lain upon it, its dark
granite walls clean, its flags proudly flying. It was comforting,
somehow, even though at the time it had belonged to an enemy.

Even though FitzJames had made improvements in the foreign style-
-filling in the moat, rising a wall around the perimeter, adding
more towers--the castle was neither beautiful nor comforting to
William's eyes. It filled him with a sense of dread--the simple,
unshakable knowledge that he was going to die here.

Alexander turned around in his saddle and grinned at William.
"All this could have been yours," he said, and William lowered
his aching head.

God help you, Katie, he thought, and stumbled along behind the
horse he was still tied to.

FitzJames himself was waiting for them in the courtyard. "What is
the meaning of this?" he said at the sight of William. "Why have
you made William your prisoner, Alexander?"

"My liege." Alexander dismounted and went to FitzJames, knelt and
kissed his hand. "I have brought you William as a prisoner of
war. He has betrayed you, my lord, and lied to you, and I have
brought him here as punishment for his treachery."

"What treachery?" FitzJames's voice was low as he stepped closer
to the dirty, bleeding William. "What have you done, William?"

"Katherine of Ireland is not dead," said Alexander, and
FitzJames's head whipped around to stare at him, hard. Alexander
went on rapidly, "She was taken from your camp and hidden at
Weylin these past nine months. William made an offer of
allegiance to Carrick of Ireland, arranged the marriage of Anna
Rose to his own man, John By the Way, sheltered Walter's eldest
son, and has these past several months lived in sin with
Katherine herself."

FitzJames looked at William with a face full of sorrow. He
whispered, "Is this true?"

"It is true," William said, and FitzJames closed his eyes.

"My son," he whispered. Even Alexander was silent, waiting for
FitzJames's reaction.

At last FitzJames opened his eyes again. He said, in his
customary tone of command, "You have betrayed me, William. You
have betrayed the promises your father made to me. I am . . . I
am disgusted. I am appalled. How could you have done this? How
could you have sheltered my enemy?"

"You saw an enemy," William said hoarsely. "I saw a woman in
need. I acted accordingly."

FitzJames shoved his face into William's and spat, "She was to
have been mine! She *was* mine, to do with as I pleased. And it
was my pleasure that she live out her days here, in humiliation,
knowing always that she could have been my queen. How could you
disobey me this way, William? How could you do this to me?"

"Because I could not allow you to do that to her," William said,
and jerked as FitzJames slapped him across the mouth.

"Could not allow! Your lord, your liege, your master! My word is
law!"

"You do not rule me," William whispered, unable to make his voice
any louder, and FitzJames slapped him again.

"You are a fool. You are a bigger fool than I ever suspected. You
disappoint me, William. You are the only one I never expected to
disappoint me." He straightened and said, his voice carrying
across the courtyard, "We will teach William Wolf's Son a lesson.
I order him put in my latest importation from our Gallic friends.
I order him put in the oubliette."

Two soldiers lifted William by his arms and carried him across
the courtyard and out of the castle proper. William let his feet
drag, too tired to walk on his own. He'd never heard the word
oubliette before and he had no French, but he guessed from the
reaction of FitzJames's people that this was not going to be an
ordinary means of torture. Would it tear his limbs apart?
Puncture his lungs? Crush him, burn him, tear out his eyes?

Far in the back of the yards, beyond the stables, the falconry,
and the gardens, one soldier lifted the lid of a small hole in
the ground, and he and the other dropped William into it. It was
a short drop, less than his height, but still he groaned when his
feet hit the floor. The walls were smooth, packed dirt, painted
with lime. He looked up at the tiny circle of sky, and then the
soldiers dropped the wooden lid back on. He heard the sound of a
lock clicking closed.

And then he realized what his torture was to be.

~~Seventeen~~

"It was here," Kit said, turning around from where he had been
inspecting the ground. "It was here, I am certain of it."

"I would say these are graves," Henry said, kneeling beside two
places where the earth had obviously been recently disturbed.
"Poor Stephen. Poor Daniel. They deserved better than this."

"But only two graves," Katherine murmured, and Henry glanced up
at her.

"Yes, my lady. Only two."

"Then he is still alive. We have to discover who attacked him,
and where they took him." Alive. She was certain of it. She would
know if more happened to him, but he was alive.

"My lady," Kit said timidly, "I have a thought. I think--perhaps
this is presumptuous of me--"

"What is it, Kit?"

"I think it was my lord Alexander. I think it was his people."

"Alexander," Katherine whispered.

Kit said quickly, "At first I thought they had deserted us, but
my lady, it is the only thing that makes sense. They attacked us.
They killed Stephen and Daniel. And now they have my lord and
they are taking him to FitzJames and perhaps they will kill him,
my lady, I am so afraid!" The boy was trembling, and Katherine
put her arm around him.

"Sh, dear. We'll find him."

"My lady," Henry said, "we are eleven men, a boy, and you, with a
child. We cannot go against FitzJames, with his fifty knights in
a stronghold."

"I lived in that stronghold for twenty years, I know it inside
and out."

"Do you know how to find my lord? And how to get him out?"

She looked away from his steely glare, and said, "No, but what
else do you propose? We cannot wait for more men to come."

Henry shook his head slowly. "I don't know how we are going to do
this, my lady. I don't want to desert my lord, but it seems
hopeless."

"There is hope," Katherine whispered. "There is always hope. We
must go on."

Henry sighed and nodded. "Very well, my lady. We go on."

The oubliette was not high enough for William to stand up
completely, and was too narrow for him to sit. He stooped or
crouched, or tried to find a way to lean against the whitewashed
wall. His knees throbbed with the pain of these positions, and
his legs and shoulders ached. On top of that were the pain from
his wounds from the beating Alexander's men had given him, as
well as hunger and thirst. The tiny chamber was stifling as the
sun beat down upon the wooden cover.

He knew he would be dead by the time Kit reached Weylin. Hunger
would kill him if the thirst and heat didn't first.

He held the tiny braid of Katherine's hair, still miraculously in
his possession, and daydreamed of her. The scent of her hair. The
taste of her skin. The tenderness in her touch. The warmth in her
voice as she spoke his name. How she would drape herself over him
to warm him on cold nights. How she would sing softly into his
ear when he couldn't sleep. Her sweet kisses. Her small jokes,
her warm smile, her rich laughter.

It was nice to dream, Katie, he thought. But we were children
trusting in tales to think a bit of your hair would keep me safe
from harm. I should have listened to you. I should have told
Alexander to take my regrets to FitzJames, and dealt with the
consequences.

He took comfort in the knowledge that his friends would take care
of her. And that even for so short a time, he had made her happy,
filled her life with pleasure and joy.

We could have lived, he thought, we could have lived so happily.
There might have been so many years together, children if you
wanted them, anything you could have asked for.

"I should have listened to you. I have wronged you, Katie," he
whispered, and prayed that somehow she would hear.

The castle of Walter the Bald sat on a hilltop, looking over a
broad valley. On one of the hills on the opposite side of the
valley was a small glade, from which one had a perfect view of
the valley and the castle and its environs. The valley was
recovering from the battles the summer before, golden and green
with crops. The castle was much the same as it had been, grey and
ivy--covered and majestic and very dear.

Katherine did not know what she expected to feel when she again
saw the walls of her former home. The sight caused her throat to
close up and her eyes to sting, and Henry said gently, "My lady,
are you all right?"

"I'm all right," she said softly, and decided not to whisper to
Quaid that this was his ancestral home. He would not remember it
at any rate.

"What do we do, my lady?" Robert said, concern etched on his
face.

Katherine shook her head. "I don't know. We wait. We look around.
We discover things."

"We are not here on a pleasure trip," one of the other men said
shortly, and Henry growled at him.

Katherine arched her eyebrow at them both and said demurely, "I
am aware of our purpose. However, we have no plan, no forces, and
we don't even know where William is."

"I meant no disrespect," the soldier said softly.

Henry slid from his horse. "I suggest we set up camp and make our
plans."

Katherine looked at the castle once more, and shut her eyes for a
moment. "My lady," Henry said again, softly.

"I am rather disturbed to discover," Katherine said, "that I do
not remember where we buried my husband. We left his grave
unmarked, so that it would be unmolested."

"That was a wise decision, my lady."

"I hope so. But . . . where did we bury him? I don't remember. I
hardly remember that day at all." She smiled at Henry
uncertainly. "I'm sorry. I have missed my home."

"I understand, my lady." He gripped her around her waist to help
her down, and gave an affectionate pass over Quaid's head. "We
shall camp here," he said to his men, "and make my lady as
comfortable as possible."

Katherine smiled her thanks at him, and went to the side of the
clearing to wait for them to make the camp up. She took Quaid out
of the sling and held him so he could move his arms and legs
around, and he grunted and fidgeted and blew on his lips to make
spitting noises. "Don't like traveling, do you, my love?" she
said to him, and he grabbed one of the ties of her cloak and
stuffed it into his mouth. She laughed softly and kissed him, and
worked it gently from his grip.

All the while she watched the castle, wondering if there was
anything they could do or if they could only wait.

Darkness. Nightfall. William ran his tongue over his dry lips,
took a deep breath, and shoved as hard as he could at the wooden
cover to the pit. He shoved and rattled and pushed with all his
remaining strength.

Nothing. It didn't budge an inch. He didn't know what was holding
it down, but there was no way he could break through the solid
oak. The lid fit tightly into the top of the pit, allowing only
air and a sliver of light to get through.

William put his hand under that sliver of light and turned his
hand so that the light played over it. "God," he said softly, "I
have tried all my life to do right. I have tried to keep my vows,
honor my obligations. To help those in need, to love those who
love me. I do not want to give up. I want to live, I want to love
my Katie. God, please. If there is a way . . . I want to go
home." He closed his eyes, to dried out even to shed tears.

Nothing. He was not surprised.

So he was going to die here. Forgotten in this place. And those
who loved him would never know what had happened--Katherine would
always wonder--oh, his poor darling--

He heard grinding above his head, and his eyes widened. The sound
of the lock coming undone was unmistakable, and he shrank back,
wondering what further torment was in store.

The cover lifted and at first all he could see was a light above
his head. It came into focus and he realized it was a torch, and
there was a hand extended down into the pit. "William," a voice
said firmly, and kindly. "William, take my hand."

"Who . . ?" he croaked, and clasped the hand tightly in his.

With difficulty, the man hauled him out of the pit and for a
moment William lay on the ground, gulping in the fresh cool night
air. He looked up at his rescuer, who was kneeling on the ground
beside him. "I have water for you, William," he said, and William
rolled onto his side and squinted at him.

"Harry. It is Harry, isn't it?"

Harry smiled at him and held out the wineskin. "Drink up,
William. We have far to go and we must leave before anyone
notices we're gone."

William took the skin and sat up, and took a long drink of water.
"Harry. How did you get here? Why are you here? Katherine said
nothing to me--"

"Mother doesn't know," Harry said. "Grandfather wanted a spy here
and I thought it would be best if it were me. Can you walk,
William?"

"I think so. Your mother is going to be furious when she learns
of this."

"I think she will be so glad to see you, she won't have time to
get angry with me." He stood, and held out his hand to William
again. "Come. I have food and clothes hidden in a cart. I shall
have to hide you under the straw."

"I don't mind at all." He took Harry's hand and got laboriously
to his feet. He felt dizzy for a moment and had to lean on Harry
for support. "No one has recognized you? You have been safe
here?"

"No one knows me. I gave them a false name and I grew a beard."
He rubbed his chin, which was indeed sporting a short, dark
beard. It made his boyish face look much more mature and lean.

"Your mother isn't going to like that either. You look like a
Northman."

"I'll shave it. Eventually."

They made their way quietly in the predawn darkness to the
stable, and Harry put the torch into a holder nailed to the wall.
He moved aside some straw in a cart to reveal a basket with bread
and cheese, and clothing for William to change for his tattered
rags. William cleaned himself off in the water trough first,
washing off the blood and grime that had coated him for the last
four days.

"William, we must be going," Harry reminded him, and William
dried himself off and got dressed. He climbed into the cart and
tore open the loaf of bread, and devoured half of it in a few
bites.

"Won't they question you, Harry, at the gate? Or have you
integrated yourself so fully here they'll let you pass?"

"They'll let me pass. One of my duties here is disposal of the
garbage." Harry grimaced, an odd expression for his young face.
"I won't bury you under the garbage, however--I'll say it's dirty
straw I'm taking to the dump."

"And then what?"

Harry shrugged. "I take you home. It will be good to see Mother
again. And I'll be glad to be gone from this place. There are
many good memories here, but . . ." He shook his head. "They are
all gone now."

William lay down on the straw and closed his eyes. Harry covered
him over with more straw, and in a moment he heard Harry climb up
onto the cart and whistle to the horse.

The cart started up with creaking wheels. William lay under the
straw, listening, but soon the steady movement of the cart
soothed him, and he closed his eyes and slept.

He awoke abruptly, and lay tensely, uncertain of where he was. He
didn't dare brush the straw from his face, for fear they had been
stopped by FitzJames's people, and he clenched his fists, ready
to fight whatever threat they were to face.

"William?" The straw above him moved aside, and he looked up at
Harry. "Are you awake?"

"What is going on?"

"I have brought up to a safe place I know of--but there are
others there, and I am uncertain of to what to do."

"Where are we?" He sat up, groaning at the aches in his body, and
looked around the dark forest that surrounded them.

"The other side of the valley. My--" he pause, cleared his
throat, and said, "My father used to bring me here, on the hunt.
You can see all of the valley from that clearing there." He
pointed, and William looked, to where he could see a dying fire
and horses, and men asleep on the ground. "I suppose it is
possible FitzJames's people know about it, but I never heard it
mentioned. Perhaps they are strangers. Nonetheless, I was going
to spend the rest of the night here and go on in the morning, but
I don't know what to do with them there. We need to rest before
dawn."

"You know of no other place to stop?"

"Not for many miles, not as secluded as this."

"Perhaps I could drive for a while."

"William," Harry said with some exasperation, "I grew up here, I
know this area for miles around. I know where to hide. You have
been here once, and you are ill. I shall find us a place."

William opened his mouth to argue, when the silence of the night
was broken by the sweetest sound William could hope to hear: a
baby crying. They both started, and William clambered down from
the cart. "It's Quaid--that's Katherine there!"

"Can you be certain?"

"I know his cry," William said, and stumbled towards the dying
embers. Yes, there near the fire was the unmistakable figure of a
woman soothing a child. "Katherine," William said hoarsely as he
went to her, and her face in the firelight was at once amazed and
joyful. She got to her feet just as he fell against her, and she
supported him as he held her and kissed her again and again.

"William," she said simply, returning kiss for kiss. "My dear."

Men moved all about them, exclaiming and asking questions, and
soon he heard Harry's voice explaining how they had come here and
all that had happened, but for himself all he could say was,
"Katherine. Katherine."

~~Eighteen~~

They could not afford wait, despite William's weakened condition,
and as soon as the sun was up they packed up their camp and
headed back towards Weylin. Katherine stayed in the cart with
William and Quaid, and the soft straw was a relief after riding
horseback for so many days. She held William so that his head was
in her lap, and he slept soundly despite their jolting mode of
transportation.

When he had come stumbling out of the woods, for a moment
Katherine had thought he was a ghost, or at the very least a
dream. No less surprising was the sight of Harry behind him,
sporting a beard like a man twice his age and looking painfully
like his father. She had had little time to speak to Harry so
far, so her questions had to wait. She did wonder if Anna Rose
had known Harry was here, if this was a secret they had kept from
all the womenfolk or just from herself.

She stroked William's soft hair and bent to kiss his warm
forehead. The bruises on his face made her heart ache, and she
kissed the cut beside his mouth as well. His beloved face seemed
immeasurably dear, and though Harry had said little of what they
had done to William, she knew, whatever it was, it had been
terrible. The kind of thing only a monster would do to a man.

She went on stroking his face gently, and leaned over to where
Quaid was sleeping beneath a makeshift canopy set up in the
corner of the cart. His sleep continued to be peaceful, and she
stroked his head with her hand. When she looked up Harry was
riding beside them, and he smiled at her.

What a wonderful day, she thought, three of my beloveds within a
hand's reach. It brought tears to her eyes. She wanted her
family, in whatever form they could now be, but she wanted them
together and safe and where she could touch them and talk to
them.

She wiped her eyes with her hand and looked down at William
again, and noticed his eyes were open. She smiled at him. "You're
awake."

"Am I? I'm not dreaming?" he asked softly.

"You're not dreaming." She brushed her thumb over his lips, and
he pursed his lips in a tiny kiss. "How do you feel? Are you
thirsty?"

"I'm all right. I'm so glad to see you."

"And I am, to see you."

"I thought I would never see you again. I thought I would die
there." He cupped her cheek for a moment. "I thought I would give
anything to see you again."

"Sh, dearest. Sh. Rest. We'll stop soon and you can eat
something, and we'll get you home as quick as we can."

He reached into his shirt and drew out the tiny braid of her
hair. He pressed it into her hand. "It did what you wanted it to
do."

"It's an old wives' tale." She closed her fist around the braid
nonetheless.

"It worked. It kept me alive. It gave me hope."

She tucked the braid away and kissed him again, and stroked his
face. "Sh, my love. Rest. Close your eyes. We're taking you
home."

His eyes closed obediently, but he grabbed her hand and pressed a
warm kiss to her palm. "Home," he said softly, and his hand
remained clasped tightly around hers.

When they stopped for the night, Katherine first made certain
William and Quaid were comfortable and fed before she saw to
herself. William protested that he needed no special treatment,
but his weariness soon gave lie to his words, and he fell asleep
with Quaid nestled on his chest. Quaid had seemed happy to see
him, and patted William's cheeks and cooed to him repeatedly
throughout the day.

Once they both were asleep, Katherine walked about the camp to
stretch her legs, and soon Harry joined her and took her arm.
They walked about companionably, and Katherine put her hand over
his that rested on her arm.

"I like the beard," she said.

"William didn't think you would."

"I do. It's very dashing. I suppose you broke as many hearts at
the court of FitzJames as you did at Weylin?"

"Oh, Mother," he said, rolling his eyes. "I don't break hearts. I
had more important things to do, at any rate."

"I would like you to tell me about that. Did Anna Rose know?"

"She did, and we decided not to tell you because you would worry
too much."

"So instead she told me you were only planning to raise turnips
and children with your future."

"We had to tell you something you would believe. I do want my
throne back, Mother," he said seriously. "I do want to take my
rightful place. I want to be as good a ruler as Father.
Grandfather and others have pledged their support."

"I'm sure you will have William's as well."

"I hope so. John By the Way has pledged his, also. I like him,
Mother. You chose a good man for our Anna."

"Her match pleases me. She seems happy. But what of FitzJames,
Harry? What did you learn there?"

He sighed, looking down at the leaves and grass at their feet.
"He hates you. He hates you immeasurably, Mother. I don't think
he went to battle with Father over the land at all, I think it
was over you. Even though he would not say as much to anyone, it
was in his every look and every action. Anything that he thought
might be made by your hand he destroyed. It took all my powers of
persuasion to convince him not to desecrate the graves of my
little brother and sister."

"Oh, God," Katherine said softly, and she gripped Harry's arm
tightly.

"I am grateful that Father's grave could not be found." He said
hesitantly, "Mother, I have spoken to Henry of this, and William
must know soon as well, but you also must know. FitzJames is
planning to attack Weylin. They will not be ready for several
days, and we will have the advantage of preparation, but I don't
know how many men William will have and FitzJames has fifty
knights on hand at all times. I'm certain there will be more."

"William has twenty men stationed with him at all times. There
are three other nobles nearby who support him, with ten men each.
There are also several individual knights on whom he can call."

"It may be enough."

"It never ends," Katherine said sadly and softly.

"It will end, Mother," Harry said. "It will end. FitzJames will
die on the battlefield, or I will die in the effort."

Katherine closed her eyes, and hugged her tall son to her
tightly. "I hate the necessity," she whispered, "but you are
right. It is the only way for this to end."

"He thinks you will be an easy target, with William gone and his
people in disarray. But," he added grimly, "we will prove him
wrong. We will present to him a challenge such as he has never
faced."

"Careful, dear. I don't want to invite anything malicious to
prove you wrong."

"We will win, Mother, because we are on the side of good."

"I hope that is enough," Katherine said.

Katherine lifted her nose to the air and sniffed. Yes, there was
something different in the air, a scent she had been missing
while they were in the interior. Salty and cool and comforting.
And there, faint beneath the sound of hooves and creaking wheels,
was the hiss and crash of waves.

Home. Home at last. They would reach Weylin soon after sunset.

William opened his eyes, and he smiled at her. "I smell the sea,"
he said softly.

"We're almost there."

"It's been far too long, Katie."

"It's only been a fortnight."

"Long enough. I don't think I'll ever stir from Weylin again."

"My lady." Henry drew up beside them. "I'd like to send one of
the men up ahead, and tell Margaret that we are returning."

"Very well," Katherine said. Henry barked an order and one of the
soldiers galloped ahead of them.

"So they take their orders from you now," William said, amusement
in his voice.

"Is that all right with you, my lord?" Katherine said in the same
tone.

"I could not approve more." He nuzzled his head against her
thigh. He still preferred keeping his head on her lap more than
any other position he could take. As long as Quaid did not mind
sharing her attention, Katherine did not mind it either.

Quaid was now riding with Harry, and fussing much less than he
had on the journey out. Katherine didn't think Quaid remembered
Harry at all, but she was happy to see they took to each other
easily. He was used to being passed from hand to hand, however,
and had few problems with strangers' laps.

And she had to admit she liked the sight of Quaid chewing on his
fist and looking up at Harry. It reminded her of when Harry was a
baby, and Walter would ride about with him proudly, showing him
off.

The piercing sorrow she was accustomed to feel at thoughts of
Walter did not come--in its place was a bittersweet feeling she
could not name. I still love him, she thought, and I miss him,
but . . . we have all moved on. William will never fully take
Walter's place, but he has made a place for himself.

She looked down at him, dozing in her lap again, and smiled
fondly and ran her fingers through his hair. That he was quite at
home in this place in her heart was obvious, and it pleased her.

If he asks again, she thought, I'm going to say yes. She didn't
know how likely it would be that he would ask, but if he did, she
had her answer now.

"Weylin, my lady!" Kit cried, pointing. "Look, they've raised the
banner!"

"Good," Katherine said. She nudged William gently. "Dearest,
we're almost home."

"Mm," William said, and nestled his face against her belly. She
decided not to disturb him again until they had reached Weylin
proper. He would need his rest, if he was to handle the upcoming
battle.

The thought made her shiver, and she tightened her embrace around
him. She did not want to lose him--she did not want to lose any
more friends ever again--but this battle must fought. It must
end. Somehow, it must end.

Weylin was full to bursting of soldiers, peasants seeking refuge,
livestock, food to last them months if they were careful. There
were lookouts on every hilltop, with bonfires ready to be lit at
the first sight of the enemy. Swords, arrows and spears were
sharpened and armor was repaired.

Katherine hated this. Watching a battle was bad. Preparing for
one was terrible. She thought of her grandmothers, who had ridden
barebreasted into battle alongside their menfolk, screeching war
cries, their faces and bodies painted. How everyone would pale if
she so much as suggested it--she was the demure queen, the lady
of the house, it was her place to watch from the battlements and
bind up wounds when the battle was over. Not to fight alongside
her man.

Even if the fight was really hers, not his.

Despite the summer heat she felt chilled, and had wrapped a shawl
around herself to watch the preparations from the highest tower.
William wanted it to appear there was no opposition to FitzJames
until he actually arrived at Weylin, to best preserve the element
of surprise. So from outside Weylin's walls all appeared as
normal, though the fields were quiet.

From among all the men she singled out William, and watched him
as he went about his work. As if he felt her eyes upon him, he
turned and looked up at her, and raised on hand, palm up, in
salute. She returned the gesture silently, but did not descend
the stairs, as she suspected he expected her to do.

If I left, she thought, this battle could be averted.

The night before she had said if she left and hid herself away in
a convent, no one would die, Weylin would be safe. And he said,
Don't leave. That was all. They had lain beside each other in the
dark, not touching, and his words hung in the air. Don't leave.

So she stayed. And she was uncertain now, as the preparations
mounted, if this was a wise decision. The men who died today or
tomorrow, their wives would resent her, their children would hate
her--the peasants would suffer if FitzJames's men destroyed the
fields, oh, they would go hungry this winter--

Her jaw trembled and she wrapped her shawl more tightly about
herself. There was only one solution now. God. She could do this.

She hurried down the stairs to the bailey, and wended her way
through the people to William. She tapped him on the shoulder,
and he turned and smiled at her. "Are you all right?"

"If I surrender myself to FitzJames this battle will not take
place."

All movement around them stopped, and the smile faded quickly
from William's face. He took her arm. "Come with me, Katherine."
They started walking away from the preparations.

"I've been thinking," she said quietly. "It is the only thing. I
don't want any more death on my behalf. I will meet FitzJames
before the gate and I will go with him wherever he wishes to take
me."

He stared at her and slowly shook his head. "Do you think I could
live with myself, if I allowed you to do that?" he said softly.
"That is the action of the worst kind of coward."

"William--"

"Sh." He put his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.
"You know what he would do to you. You know it as well as I do. I
could never--I couldn't--" He voice caught and he pressed his
cheek to her hair. "I would sooner die than let him do that to
you," he whispered.

"But, William--"

"No. Do not mention it again. My precious Katie," he whispered,
kissing her lips. "I could never hand you ever to him--knowing
what he would do--"

"William," she said again, but it was no longer a protest. All
right. She had offered the only solution she had, and been
rejected. Now she could only stand and watch. She brought his
mouth to hers and kissed him deeply, and rested her forehead
against his. "I love you," she whispered, and he drew in his
breath and let it shudderingly out. "I love you, William," she
said again, gaining strength with the words. "I am going to spend
this night in the chapel, praying for you. I want every saint on
your side."

"I will pray with you, if you like."

"No, dearest, you need your sleep." She kissed him again. "I love
you. Survive this, William, survive this that I may show you
properly, for the rest of my life."

"I will, my love," he whispered, and kissed the hand that still
bore his ring. He had not asked for it back and she was loathe to
part with it.

They were holding each other and kissing gently, when one of the
watchmen in the tower cried, "My lord! A bonfire! The enemy
approaches!"

Katherine gasped and looked up at William, and found that words
fled her. She grasped his hands tightly.

"It begins," he said softly. "Do you trust me?"

"With everything."

"I will not fail you."

"My lord!" Henry, Harry, and others of his soldiers approached
them. "You still need to put on your armor, my lord," Henry said.

William nodded and touched Katherine's cheek. "I will not fail
you," he repeated softly, and went with his men to prepare
himself.

Katherine pressed her hands to her mouth and willed herself not
to weep. If anything happened to him--if he died this day--how
ever would she bear it?

There had to be a hundred men with FitzJames, and FitzJames
himself was at their head. His trumpeters blew a rill, and there
was silence but for the waves and the horses and the wind in the
banners. William wished he were close enough to Katherine to
embrace her. He was sure she needed him---he knew he needed her.
But she was on the parapet above the gate, and he was below with
his soldiers. He could see her, slender and small and straight,
tiny compared to the guards beside her.

"Katherine of Ireland!" FitzJames roared. "Show yourself!"

Katherine, her face emotionless as a mummer's mask, took a deep
breath and stepped up to the parapet. "I am she," she called
calmly. "Who summons me?"

"It is I, John, son of James and king of Angria and your rightful
lord! Your life is mine, as you may recall, and I demand my
payment! Descend, lady, and perhaps I won't kill you today."

"I will not." Katherine's voice was soft but firm, and carried to
every man. William looked at her from where he was waiting and
smiled proudly. Oh, she was a queen down to the bone.

"You will or I'll kill every man, woman and child of Weylin. I
will salt the fields and burn the castle. I will--"

"Stop," Katherine said. "You have no rights over me. You have no
rights to make this claim. You are an invader here, unwelcome and
unwanted. You have caused enough suffering. Go, FitzJames, leave
us in peace. Do something in your life that shows you are a man
and not a monster."

"You are very brave for a woman with no protection. Who do you
expect to defend you? Your husband is dead, your son is missing,
your father and brothers are an ocean away, and your protector
rots in my oubliette. Do you even know what that is, child?"

"I know," Katherine whispered. "And it sickens me that you would
embrace such a thing."

"Then come down here. Join me. If you are kind to me, child, I
can be surprisingly kind to you."

Katherine shuddered. "You repulse me. You offend me. My answer
stands, FitzJames, I will not join you."

"Very well," FitzJames answered, raising his arm, and his army
braced themselves to attack.

"Now," William said, and the gate opened and he and all his men
rushed through to the field before Weylin, swords and spears
drawn. Above their heads the parapet bristled with arrows as
archers poised to fire. William glanced over his shoulder, and
saw Katherine still stood in her place, looking terrible and
fearless, a bow in her hands and an arrow nocked. And she was
smiling.

"Very well," she said, and FitzJames's hesitation at this
unexpected opposition was obvious to everyone.

His eyes landed on William and he smiled humorlessly. "You," he
said. "You're alive. I suppose I should not be surprised."

"Hello, old friend," William said. "I would like to make a
proposition to you."

"I'm listening." FitzJames's mount shifted on its hooves
nervously.

"This fight is between you and I. I say that you and I face each
other in a duel. Whoever survives it . . . survives."

"William!" Katherine gasped above him, but this time William
refused to look.

"What say you? A fair fight between us?"

FitzJames looked around him. Their numbers were evenly matched,
William was sure of this, and there were still peasants in the
courtyard who wanted to fight, even if it was with scythes and
hoes.

"I accept," FitzJames said, and dismounted his horse.

~~Nineteen~~

"I don't like this, I don't like this," Henry was muttering as
Katherine rushed past him towards William, and he caught her arm
and pulled her back behind the line of soldiers.

"Let me go!" Katherine snarled, her bow and quiver forgotten in
her hand, but he held her firmly.

"Don't, my lady. You'll only distract my lord and he cannot
afford to be distracted."

"I can't let him do this--you can't, Henry, you must stop this!"
She felt frantic with the need to pull William away from this mad
plan.

"If my lord feels this is what is right, we must trust his
judgement. Please, my lady, I am charged with your protection,
don't fight me. We must just watch, and wait."

Katherine stopped struggling, and looked out to where William was
speaking to FitzJames. Harry and John By the Way were both with
him, and Alexander and other men she did not know were with
FitzJames. "Can he win?" she whispered to Henry. "Who is the
better swordsman?"

"They are evenly matched, my lady," he said, not taking his eyes
off the precedings. "FitzJames has more experience, of course,
and he studied sword fighting in France. But my lord is younger
and stronger, and more agile."

"What are they discussing?"

"Terms, I assume. FitzJames tends to do things the Frankish way,
and the Franks have a code for duels such as this. They will both
choose seconds and decide on a marshal." He turned to another
soldier and said, "Fetch Margaret. We may need a healer." The
soldier saluted and rushed off to find her, and Henry said to
Katherine, "It may be a long fight, my lady. You may want to find
a more comfortable place to observe."

"If you wish me to hide away so that my lord will not see me, I
would prefer that you say so. I do not wish to move." She crossed
her arms defiantly, and Henry sighed.

"Very well. Forgive me. But you cannot interfere, my lady."

"I will not." She thought, If William falls I will kill FitzJames
myself, and she put her hand on the dagger she wore at her waist.

FitzJames's men had moved back from the strip of land between the
walls of Weylin and the road, and many of them had dismounted. It
was hard to tell who were talking among themselves more,
FitzJames's men or the people of Weylin, and though William's men
all bore stoic expressions the air around them was tense with
waiting. There may yet be a fight, Katherine thought, and she
closed her eyes and folded her hands together to quickly pray for
these brave men, and for her beloved.

Margaret pushed her way through the people and joined Katherine.
Her face was pale and drawn, and she looked out to William
anxiously. Katherine took her hand and squeezed it, and Margaret
glanced at her and smiled briefly. They clung to each other's
hands as they waited.

Soon Harry broke away from the group of men, and jogged over to
where Katherine and the others stood. He said, "FitzJames has
some notion that the only proper time for a duel is dawn, but I
think we have convinced him not to postpone. John will be
William's second and Alexander will be FitzJames's. They have
asked that you, Henry, be the marshal."

"Very well," Henry said grimly. "My lady." He bowed his head to
Katherine and went out into the field to join the other men.

"It may be a long while, Mother," Harry said. "Do you want to sit
down?"

"I am not leaving."

Harry nodded, unsurprised, and looked out at the field.
"FitzJames does not practice swordplay regularly," he said. "He
has been too occupied with matters of his new kingdom. That may
be to William's advantage."

"William has not been practicing either," Margaret said. "And
he's been ill."

"But he has been working outdoors," said Katherine. "He is
strong--he recovered quickly. That is to his advantage." She took
Harry's hand. Flanked by her son and her friend, she did not feel
quite so terrified. Surely William's youth and strength could win
over FitzJames's experience and training. Surely William would
prevail. Surely the saints and angels were on their side--surely
God would not punish her so much as to take away her love for a
second time--

"Mother," Harry said softly, and she looked at him, pressing her
lips together. If she spoke she would weep, and she had to stay
strong, for William's sake. "Mother," he said again, and touched
her cheek with his other hand. "You will always be protected,
Mother."

"I am not afraid for myself, my dear," she whispered, turning her
eyes back to the field. Katherine felt as if she were truly
seeing William for the first time. Tall and slender and strong,
his hair dark and shining in the sun, longer than fashionable but
so suitable to him; his mobile, guileless face; his expressive
hands, his agile feet--even his sword and shield and studded
leather armor seemed as natural parts of him. But what astounded
her at this moment was that this strong, brave, handsome man, who
owed her nothing and expected nothing from her but her affection,
would be so willing to give his life for her sake.

I don't want to live without him, she thought. I know I can, and
I will if I must. But I don't want to. And I will not love again,
if it comes to that. Two loves in one lifetime is more than
anyone has the right to expect, particularly two loves such as I
have had.

If you live, William, she promised him silently, I will spend the
rest of my days thanking you for this. You must live, my love.

William tied the gauntlet on his right hand, pulling the strap
with his teeth. He had walked a ways away from where FitzJames
was similarly preparing himself, oblivious to the dark looks his
men were giving him. William said softly to John, as he strapped
his shield onto his arm, "How does my lady?"

"Very unhappily, my lord."

William nodded. He knew she would be unhappy with this turn of
events, it was why he had not told her of his plan beforehand. He
said, "I hope I live to be scolded by her tonight," and John
sighed.

"William, you have been ill, please reconsider."

"The offer has been made and the terms agreed upon. I cannot back
down. We fight, and we fight today."

"And one of you will die," John said.

"Perhaps."

"FitzJames will kill you, William, given the chance."

"Then I will not give him the chance." He put his hand on the
handle of his sword. "I am ready."

"I will tell Henry." He went to where Henry was waiting.

William took a deep breath and dared to look to where Katherine
was standing. At once he wished he hadn't--her fear and despair
was plain on her face, even in the way she was standing. She
loves me, he thought, and raised his hand to her in salute again,
gazing at her tenderly.

Katherine's own hand trembled as she raised it in salute, and she
did not smile at all. He wished there was enough time to go to
her and reassure her all would be well, but John was already
returning to him and Henry was stepping into place between them.

They had chosen the most level part of the field, free of rocks
and tree roots, and William watched as FitzJames and his people
approached. John took his place at William's side, and gave him a
tight, nervous smile.

"John," William said quietly, "if anything happens to me, take my
lady far, far away--take her home to her people, John, if you
can--"

"If she will let me," John answered, and then FitzJames and
Alexander were facing them with Henry between.

FitzJames said, "I suppose I should not be surprised at all the
betrayals that have come. What did you promise the boy, William?
His throne, his kingdom, his pick of the lasses under your care?"

"I have made no promises I do not intend to keep," William said.

"The lands of Angria are rich and bountiful," FitzJames said.
"Surely they would be a great relief after the hardships of
Weylin. I suppose I should not be surprised either that you
decided you want your inheritance now."

"All I want is a life of peace."

"Your father--there was a soldier. There was a brave man. There
was a man who never let anything as trivial as a woman get in the
way of his loyalties."

"He never went to war over his insulted pride, either," William
said.

Alexander, already shaking with nervousness, cried, "Are we here
to fight or to jaw?"

"Are you so eager to spill blood?" John shot back, and William
put his hand on his arm.

"Enough," he said. "I am ready." He tightened his fist around the
straps of his shield.

"To the death," FitzJames answered, and drew his sword.

A duel to show one's ability and grace, Katherine thought, was a
beautiful sight. She had loved to watch William and his men
practice, how they could switch so quickly from play to deadly
concentration and back, how William's whipcord strength bore him
through even the longest of brawls.

But this---

At least his feet were sure, and his legs showed no signs of
failing him. His arm was strong, his movements quick--bringing up
his shield to protect his side as he swung the sword towards
FitzJames's leg, dodging a blow, returning it--his face was tense
and even from this distance Katherine could see the sweat
dripping from his brow.

First blood was his--the edge of his sword glanced from
FitzJames's jaw, and Henry called a stop to the fight as the
wound was looked at. William paced about as they waited, restless
with undirected energy. FitzJames fussed loudly at this, roaring
he could fight all day and all night, this was only a scratch,
and his surgeon agreed he could continue.

They began to fight once more, the sound of their clashing swords
louder than the waves. His wound had enraged FitzJames, and he
attacked William with fury. Parry and blow, parry and blow--until
it seemed to Katherine that William was retreating more than he
was advancing, that he could not hold his shield up so high.

She knew the wound was coming before it happened--FitzJames's
sword sliced through the air and through William's armor on his
upper arm, and once again Henry called a pause to the fight.

"Mother, no," Harry said again as Katherine prepared to go to
him.

"I must," she said, and lifted up her skirts so she could run.

William's face was twisted with pain, and he was sitting on the
ground, clutching his wounded arm. "Katie," he said harshly, "you
shouldn't be here."

She went down on her knees and stroked his face with trembling
hands. "Make it stop, William," she said, "tell FitzJames
anything he wants, I'll do it--just please, stop this, William."

"No." He drank gratefully from the skin of water Margaret brought
to him and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He grimaced
as Margaret poured the water over his wound and quickly bound it
up. "I'm ready," he said when his wound was tended, and Katherine
leaned her head against his neck and kissed him quickly. She
tried to speak but found she couldn't, and simply pushed herself
to her feet and stumbled back to the walls of Weylin to wait for
the duel to end. Harry took one look at her face and put his arms
around her. They watched silently as once more FitzJames and
William began to fight.

His shield was heavy on his wounded arm, and William, though he
knew his skill was sure, was not certain he could win this fight.
The anger in FitzJames was driving him like a northman.

But William knew he had something much greater to fight for than
mere pride. The happiness of his love, his life--her little boy--
her entire family, his family, perhaps, to be--

He returned FitzJames's blows with renewed vigor, and FitzJames
reacted with surprise and William began to drive him across the
field. His arm was getting tired, William was sure of this, and
he knew FitzJames's habits and tricks. If he got tired he often
became careless, and would try for a simple death blow instead of
a more finessed movement--

He saw it--his chance--FitzJames's wrist was extended,
vulnerable--William brought down the pommel of his sword onto
FitzJames's wrist and FitzJames's fingers flew open.

His sword fell to the ground.

There were gasps from Weylin and murmurs from FitzJames's people,
and FitzJames stared at him and fell to his knees.

"Do it," he said, pulling at the collar of his shirt to bare his
neck. "Kill me, William. Fulfill your destiny."

Panting, William lowered his arm. "No," he said. "No, I am not
going to kill you. We have been friends and comrades. Despite
everything you have done, I cannot take your life. But in return
for your life, you must give up Angria."

"What?" FitzJames said, and the observers gasped and murmured
again.

"Angria. You must give up Angria. It belongs to Harry, he is the
rightful heir. Go home, to your own home, FitzJames. Return to
Angria no more."

"Is it not enough that you have defeated me? You must humiliate
me as well?"

"Be glad I am not stripping you of your own lands as well,"
William said shortly. "Rise. Leave my home. Leave my people
alone. Put Katherine out of your mind, for good. She is not and
never be your queen." He unbuckled the straps of his shield and
let it fall to the ground, and put his sword into the scabbard
and turned towards FitzJames's army. "All of you," he said, "we
have fought together and I respect you, and we can arrange for--"

He heard a roar from behind him and turned to see FitzJames
coming towards him, his sword upraised and his face purple with
anger.

Oh God I have no defenses he's going to kill me---Katie I'm
sorry---

There was the sharp whirr of an arrow flying through the air, and
FitzJames stopped. His face took on an expression of dismay and
wonder, and he put his hand to his heart, where the point of an
arrow protruded. His eyes widened and he said, "You---have won---
" before he fell onto his knees, and then onto his face. The
feathered tip of the arrow quivered in his back.

William gulped a breath of air, and turned to face Weylin. Who
had fired the shot? Who had acted so quickly? Whose aim was so
true?

And he saw Katherine, her face flushed, the bow still in her
hands. Their eyes met, and she dropped the bow and ran out into
the field. He caught her in his arms--she was weeping, trembling,
and her hands were frantic as she touched him as if making
certain he was not further injured. "He was going to kill you,"
she gasped.

"I know, my love, you saved me."

"I could never let him hurt you more--William, my dear William--"

They kissed and she cried, and William's men surrounded them and
joined with those of FitzJames who had not fled when he fell.
They brought those remaining to William, and they all waited
until he paid them attention for his next order.

Katherine still in his arms, William finally looked to the
waiting men. He did not know what to tell them, but they were
obviously hanging on any order he could give them. He did not see
Alexander's face among them, but this did not surprise him. He
tightened his arm around Katherine and said, "My friends, we have
been misled in the past. The way is clear now, to make right what
was wrong. Those among you who feel you cannot support Harry as
king, go now peacefully, and do not oppose him. Those of you who
can, you are welcome here. But there will be no more deaths this
day."

"William, will you not take the throne yourself?" someone cried,
and William could not read the expression that crossed
Katherine's face.

"I will not," he said. "I have no need of a throne. I am not a
ruler. I am not a king. Harry is the rightful heir." He looked
down at her again, and was pleased to see a tiny smile on her
lips. "Come, friends," he called, "let there be no more fighting
between us. We will celebrate the restoration of a king!"

Cheers arose and Harry was lifted up on the shoulders of the men.
They bore him into Weylin, followed by the rest of the soldiers
and the inhabitants of Weylin.

Katherine and William were slower to follow. With the fight over,
William felt himself drained and weary. "Is it all right that I
lean on you?" he asked softly.

"You may lean on me all you need, my lord."

"Did I do right, Katie? Is this what Harry wants--what you want?"

"You did right. It is exactly what I want." She stopped walking
and cupped his face tenderly in her hand. "I want you exactly how
you are," she said. "My sweet, gentle, simple William."

"Simple?" he asked, smiling.

"Simple in life, not in mind. I am through with royalty and
ruling. I want only to raise my babies and watch the seasons
pass." She looked back over her shoulder, where FitzJames's body
lay, forgotten. "We need to bury him," she said softly.

"He will be put in holy ground. See, Margaret has already seen to
it." Indeed, servants were carrying out a bier on which to lay
the body. William sighed, and they continued their walk back into
the shelter of Weylin.

Something was nagging at his mind, however, and he said, "Babies?
Do I understand you, Katie?"

She smiled but did not look at him, and merely pressed herself
closer to his side. "It is good to start with one," she said.
"What do you think, William? A son for you at harvest?"

William stopped walking, and put his hands on Katherine waist. He
looked her seriously in the face, and she smiled more broadly and
moved his hands to her belly. Yes, there was the faintest
roundness there that he had not noticed before, being too
preoccupied with preparations for battle. Stiffly William got
onto his knees and kissed her belly and lay his check against it,
and she stroked her hands through his hair. "Does this please
you?" she whispered.

"Beyond words," he said, and kissed her belly again tenderly. And
then he smiled and looked up at her. "My dear, you must marry me
now. I am not going to take 'no' for an answer. You are not going
to have an illegitimate child on my behalf."

"Very well, William," she said demurely.

"No arguments, Katie. In fact, every argument you have presented
in the past no longer applies. There is nothing to stand in our
way now."

"You are quite right, William."

"Will you be my wife, Katie?"

"Yes, William," she said, and smiled.

William sighed again and pressed his face to her belly once more.
"But tomorrow," he said. "Is that all right?"

"One more day is not going to make a difference, at this point.
And you need to rest." She brought him to his feet and caressed
his cheek. "Come, my love," she said quietly. "Lie down so that I
may tend to you. I will watch over you as you sleep."

He kissed her hand and held onto it, and they went into Weylin.

And so they lived, if not happily ever after, certainly happier
than most. There were three beautiful, green--eyed children, who
grew strong and sturdy under their parents' care. There were
grandchildren in time, as John and Anna Rose made their own
family and Harry took a wife. Quaid grew to be a man much like
his father, tall and handsome and kind. Harry ruled well and
wisely, and was much beloved by his people. Angria and Weylin
both were bountiful. Wars were fought only to defend themselves
against invaders, and most of their days were filled with peace.

But time passed as it must do, and the day came when Katherine
was not so spry and merry as she had been. Her illness was swift,
giving them barely enough time to send for her children, and
William could not allow himself to sleep, not wanting to waste
any of the minutes that remained to them.

Near the end she said, holding onto his hand, "I have no regrets,
Will, I hope you know that."

"I have regrets," he said, and she looked at him with surprise.
He said, "I regret only that there was not more time for us. If,
perhaps, we had been friends as children, or young lovers, or
given to each other, bound together when we were but babies--"

"Shh," she said, putting her hand on his mouth. "I have praised
God every day that I have had you as long as I have. It is almost
wicked to ask for more."

"I will be wicked then, and ask for more."

"William," she said, in an affectionately frustrated tone he knew
well. "Forty years, more good than bad, is not enough for you?"

"Eternity would not be enough to enjoy you," he said, his voice
breaking, and he lay his head on her breast. She stroked his hair
gently as he wept, and he lifted his head only when her hand
faltered and stopped. He looked at her dearly loved face and
closed his eyes for a moment, and then closed her eyes with his
hand and kissed her lips. He folded her hands together on her
breast and rose on stiff knees to tell the children that their
mother had gone on.

Before a year had passed, William took out his old drawings he
had made of her when they had first met. He bought a block of
marble--the finest white marble he could find--and hired a mason
who agreed to follow what he had designed. When the statue was
finished he caused it to be set upon Katherine's tomb, with but
one word carved at the base.

Beloved.



The End.

Thanks to Fabiana for the idea, to Kelly for editing and
encouragement, and to you for joining me on this strange little
exploration.