A/N: Naturally, A Knights Tale belongs to Columbia Studios and I'm just playing around a bit. If I owned it, I'd likely be much richer than I am.
A cold wind came over the water, chilling the two silent figures who huddled next to the embers of a dying campfire. Wat and Geoff, the rowdier members of the group, had long since had their fill of ale; they had stumbled off into the darkness to their tents hoping to sleep off the stupor by dawn. Shortly after, Roland had persuaded his new wife Christiana to retire with him, leaving Will and Kate to stare in silence at the flames.
Will leaned back on his elbows, watching as Kate idly poked at the firewood with a long stick. Though it was well past dark, Will had become accustomed to minimal sleep over the past year. In fact, he could count the number of nights that his slumber had been blissfully uninterrupted. The source of his trouble was not at all difficult to divine.
Jocelyn was gone. Adhemar had not been untruthful when he spoke of his ongoing negotiations with Jocelyn's father at the London tournament. No doubt that the Duke had preferred a man such as Adhemar, a well-respected noble descended from an ancient house, to William. Forced by her father to choose between her privileged lifestyle and the man she claimed to love, Jocelyn had barely hesitated to choose the former. Less than a month after the start of the new tournament season, Christiana came with a message from her former mistress, who had been too cowardly to deliver the news to William in person. The rumour mill that flourished at tournaments reported that she had wed Adhemar after a short engagement, and she already carried his child. Jocelyn's betrayal had wounded William deeply, and he had withdrawn from life until he was but a shell of his former self.
Of late, however, his hurt had turned to a raging fury against the woman who had left him. How dare she lead him on in such a way? Will had worshiped her with his entire being, and he had presumed that she had returned his feelings. Had she not promised to live in poverty - and even sleep with pigs - if it were the only way they could be together?
His ever-present companions had not missed Will's melancholy attitude, and they were careful to never leave him alone for too long a time, likely fearing that he would do something rash. Tonight was obviously Kate's turn to look after him, and though William sincerely appreciated their concern and care, he did not want the lady blacksmith to lose sleep on his account.
Indeed, it was clear that Kate was close to sleep. Though the shadowy light provided by the fire hid the drowsiness that Will was certain was written on her features, her drooping eyelids left no question as to her state of awareness. She had long since broken up her poker and tossed it to the flames, and she had shifted forward so that her head was pillowed in her hand. As Will watched, her dark eyes finally closed and her head rolled forward.
Will waited a few minutes, watching carefully to make sure she did not tumble headlong into the fire. Knowing he would get no response, as Kate was a notoriously heavy sleeper, William softly called out to her. "Kate? Are you awake?"
As expected, his query went unanswered. Will rose and knelt next to her small form. He eased he into his arms as gently as he could - waking Kate now would only serve to unleash her considerable temper upon him - and carried her into a small tent. Laying her upon the small cot, Will pulled off her shoes and tucked her in to her bed; Kate's only response to his ministrations was to mumble and roll over to find a more comfortable position. Will chuckled at that and leaned forward to dust a kiss on her temple before he sought his own bed.
Sleep continued to elude the knight as he stared at the canvas ceiling. He knew that he chided only himself when pretending that his continued pining for Jocelyn caused his restlessness. But these past weeks, as he had rejoined his friends in the world of the living, he had found his mind drawn to Kate. He had been just able to hold himself back from telling her of his newly acquired regard for her, knowing that she would attribute it only to their forced proximity and his lack of exposure to proper women of his stature.
In truth, Kate could not be more different from Jocelyn. Whilst Jocelyn had been devious and manipulative in gaining his heart, Will had never known Kate to be anything other than honest and straightforward. Kate, though prideful, was never haughty or discourteous to those not of her own station - she knew what that was like, having been subjected to the taunts of the male blacksmiths before Will had taken her on. Kate had managed to survive for years alone in a man's world, earning her own way after the death of her husband; William seriously doubted that Jocelyn would last a day without a handmaid or three to look after her.
And Kate certainly lost nothing to Jocelyn in beauty and charm. The day Will had first met Kate in her forge at Rouen, he had not been able to see past her anvil and smith's apron. As she travelled with the group, she had opened up, revealing a sharp wit and compassionate soul. Will, in turn, had grown fond of her company and often sought her out for conversation. She had proven to be a friend loyal and true.
Will groaned as he rolled over to lie on his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. It would not do to fixate on this pointless obsession with Kate. He needed to focus on his jousting - the tournament at Amboise began in just three days, and after months of inactivity, he was sorely out of practice. Prince Edward had made him lord of a generous fief near Coventry, but William did not wish to make the peasants who worked the land pay for his jousting and gallivanting across the continent. He wished to win enough in prizes to fund his hobby and also for the construction of a manor house for himself and his heirs.
Will, having nearly worn himself into slumber, allowed himself to daydream in his last few moments of conscious thought. He imagined a large stone estate, with a large stable filled with well-bred horses. His friends were all close by, and a whole brood of his children flocking about the place… and Kate was their mother.
With a soft smile on his face, Will finally drifted off. For once, his dreams were naught but sweet.
***
A cold wind came over the water, chilling the two silent figures who huddled next to the embers of a dying campfire. Wat and Geoff, the rowdier members of the group, had long since had their fill of ale; they had stumbled off into the darkness to their tents hoping to sleep off the stupor by dawn. Shortly after, Roland had persuaded his new wife Christiana to retire with him, leaving Will and Kate to stare in silence at the flames.
Will leaned back on his elbows, watching as Kate idly poked at the firewood with a long stick. Though it was well past dark, Will had become accustomed to minimal sleep over the past year. In fact, he could count the number of nights that his slumber had been blissfully uninterrupted. The source of his trouble was not at all difficult to divine.
Jocelyn was gone. Adhemar had not been untruthful when he spoke of his ongoing negotiations with Jocelyn's father at the London tournament. No doubt that the Duke had preferred a man such as Adhemar, a well-respected noble descended from an ancient house, to William. Forced by her father to choose between her privileged lifestyle and the man she claimed to love, Jocelyn had barely hesitated to choose the former. Less than a month after the start of the new tournament season, Christiana came with a message from her former mistress, who had been too cowardly to deliver the news to William in person. The rumour mill that flourished at tournaments reported that she had wed Adhemar after a short engagement, and she already carried his child. Jocelyn's betrayal had wounded William deeply, and he had withdrawn from life until he was but a shell of his former self.
Of late, however, his hurt had turned to a raging fury against the woman who had left him. How dare she lead him on in such a way? Will had worshiped her with his entire being, and he had presumed that she had returned his feelings. Had she not promised to live in poverty - and even sleep with pigs - if it were the only way they could be together?
His ever-present companions had not missed Will's melancholy attitude, and they were careful to never leave him alone for too long a time, likely fearing that he would do something rash. Tonight was obviously Kate's turn to look after him, and though William sincerely appreciated their concern and care, he did not want the lady blacksmith to lose sleep on his account.
Indeed, it was clear that Kate was close to sleep. Though the shadowy light provided by the fire hid the drowsiness that Will was certain was written on her features, her drooping eyelids left no question as to her state of awareness. She had long since broken up her poker and tossed it to the flames, and she had shifted forward so that her head was pillowed in her hand. As Will watched, her dark eyes finally closed and her head rolled forward.
Will waited a few minutes, watching carefully to make sure she did not tumble headlong into the fire. Knowing he would get no response, as Kate was a notoriously heavy sleeper, William softly called out to her. "Kate? Are you awake?"
As expected, his query went unanswered. Will rose and knelt next to her small form. He eased he into his arms as gently as he could - waking Kate now would only serve to unleash her considerable temper upon him - and carried her into a small tent. Laying her upon the small cot, Will pulled off her shoes and tucked her in to her bed; Kate's only response to his ministrations was to mumble and roll over to find a more comfortable position. Will chuckled at that and leaned forward to dust a kiss on her temple before he sought his own bed.
Sleep continued to elude the knight as he stared at the canvas ceiling. He knew that he chided only himself when pretending that his continued pining for Jocelyn caused his restlessness. But these past weeks, as he had rejoined his friends in the world of the living, he had found his mind drawn to Kate. He had been just able to hold himself back from telling her of his newly acquired regard for her, knowing that she would attribute it only to their forced proximity and his lack of exposure to proper women of his stature.
In truth, Kate could not be more different from Jocelyn. Whilst Jocelyn had been devious and manipulative in gaining his heart, Will had never known Kate to be anything other than honest and straightforward. Kate, though prideful, was never haughty or discourteous to those not of her own station - she knew what that was like, having been subjected to the taunts of the male blacksmiths before Will had taken her on. Kate had managed to survive for years alone in a man's world, earning her own way after the death of her husband; William seriously doubted that Jocelyn would last a day without a handmaid or three to look after her.
And Kate certainly lost nothing to Jocelyn in beauty and charm. The day Will had first met Kate in her forge at Rouen, he had not been able to see past her anvil and smith's apron. As she travelled with the group, she had opened up, revealing a sharp wit and compassionate soul. Will, in turn, had grown fond of her company and often sought her out for conversation. She had proven to be a friend loyal and true.
Will groaned as he rolled over to lie on his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. It would not do to fixate on this pointless obsession with Kate. He needed to focus on his jousting - the tournament at Amboise began in just three days, and after months of inactivity, he was sorely out of practice. Prince Edward had made him lord of a generous fief near Coventry, but William did not wish to make the peasants who worked the land pay for his jousting and gallivanting across the continent. He wished to win enough in prizes to fund his hobby and also for the construction of a manor house for himself and his heirs.
Will, having nearly worn himself into slumber, allowed himself to daydream in his last few moments of conscious thought. He imagined a large stone estate, with a large stable filled with well-bred horses. His friends were all close by, and a whole brood of his children flocking about the place… and Kate was their mother.
With a soft smile on his face, Will finally drifted off. For once, his dreams were naught but sweet.
***