(Set after the end of A Knights Tale. Jocelyn and Will are to be wed at the end of the month. The romance between of Christie and Roland is blossoming into a rose before the group's very eyes. Count Adhemar had vowed his revenge on the flat of his back months before, when Will had unhorsed him. Edward, the Black Prince is throwing them a banquet in honor of the impending wedding of Jocelyn and Will, which is where we return to the group. The story is told from Chaucer and Kate's viewpoint.)
All eyes raise and turn to the large entry staircase, as Sir William and Lady Jocelyn make their entrance. The lady is encased in a long flowing gown in the tones of sapphires and emeralds. Her hair is threaded with ribbons of the same tones, swept romantically up away from her face. Her face is shining with the love that they share.
It is a strange sight for my eyes to see, William dressed the part of a proper English nobel. His hair had been tamed by the many groomsmen that had flocked to him like the crows to the corn. His tunic matched Jocelyn's dress in colors. Although I could see the obvious discomfort that flashed across his face, if you did not know him, you would think that this is completely natural for him. He smiled when he saw our small little group, huddled near the edge of the dance floor, out of the way of the other nobles. The Black Prince noticed us standing there and made his way over. His black tunic seemed to flow over him like he was a Greek god. "Good Evening all. I expect you have enjoyed your stay at my castle. I am sorry that I have not been of more available to you, but with the ever present threat of war with France my hands have been tied." He bowed looking over at Kate and took her hand and placed a kiss upon it. She blushed a few shades darker than Wat's hair, then returned to her lovely porcelain color. Her dress was the color of autumn leaves drifting down from the trees. It made her raven black hair shine like the sea. I sighed softly, knowing that I could not have competed with him for her affections, and knew that she would never be intrigued by me. I am just a writer. A poor English writer, and as it seems, she could have the Black Prince to woo her affections. And they don't call him the Undefeated Black Prince for nothing. He's never lost a battle. There is no way that I could compete with him in any manner. He's more graceful, stronger, more vigilant, and more dashing. I looked down at my clothes and thought that he was also much better dressed. I was wearing a tunic that Roland had sewed me. It was not nearly as ornate or as flattering. I sighed, and resolved myself to not trying to win our Kate's affections, and to look else where for a muse for my writings. Roland seemed to notice my dour expression because he elbowed me in the ribs, and muttered at me. "Look more happy. This is a night for enjoyment, not for sour expressions such as that. You're a writer fake it." I looked at him and gave him a fake smile, and then bowed and left the room and the castle.
I needed fresh air. I looked around and decided that I would take a walk through London and hopefully find myself somewhere nice to drown my sorrows. No one followed me. I just walked along, kicking pebbles that crossed my path and trying to compose a love poem in my head so that I might write it down later. "What rhymes with ivory... nothing... damn and blast. Hmm..." I saw up ahead a tavern that was well lit and looked to be a jolly good time. "The Rusted Swords... that doesn't sound too promising a armory... but it does sound like they'll have some fine ale." I walked inside and sat down, telling the wench to bring me a round of ale and some bread and cheese. I pulled an ink well, quill and parchment out of my pocket and put them down on the table, trying to write out the poem that I had been thinking about. I bit my lip as I wrote, trying not to mess up the lettering.
Her eyes are like dark pools,
Deep and curious,
Drowning my heart with a desire,
To know what she is thinking behind those eyes.