AN: I am so sorry that this took so long! I had a very hard time figuring out the direction I needed this short transition chapter needed to take. Now, that I have a viable plan, updates should be a bit better. But I warn all, my health may gainsay me. I hope you like this interlude, and all to come...

French Translations (again tell me if I got it wrong):

Non- No

Monsieur- My Lord

Merci- Thanks

La Petite Mademoiselle- The small or little maiden

Mon Dieu- My God

Mon Dieu suave-moi My God save me

After seeing Jaqueline safely home, and happily discovering the Baroness and Marguerite would return very late, Marc refused any refreshment and prepared for a walk full of complaintive thought. As he began to walk the gate, Maurice came running after him. "Monsieur, Monsieur de Laurant! I beg a moment of your time, please!" the old man begged, winded and holding a large wooden case.

"Maurice, slow down and let me assist you. You'll catch your death if you go on like this!" The younger man cried out, rushing to help the ancient man.

"Non, Monsieur, non," Maurice huffed, holding the ancient chest in his arms as if he held a newborn babe. "My late Master, I fear, never had a moments' peace since his beloved wife died giving birth to my young Mistress," Muarice choked out, fresh tears pooling in his weathered blue eyes. "On that cursed night he entrusted this chest to me, commanding me to hide it as safely as I could, and if something should ever happen to him I should give it to my young Mistress on the day she married or the day she turned twenty. I don't know what will happen at the palace, I only know that now is the time to give this to her. I just pray that it will end the heartache she's endured for too long."

Laurant lifted the heavy chest securing it under his powerful left arm. "Maurice, I can deliver this to Mademoiselle de Barbarac at the palace myself, or I can escort you there and lighten your burdens. The choice is yours, for I would by no means prevent any person from doing their sworn duty."

"Merci, Monsieur le Laurant, I am indebted to you for helping me fulfill my Master's final wish," Maurice bowed with a grace that belied his age and reflected his former position as a respected steward.

"You have no debt to me Maurice," Marc stated, tipping his plumed orange cap. "Shall we go now, or would you like to sup first?

Tentatively, the once proud and honored servant of a great man fingered his threadbare woolen tunic. Shame infused itself on his wrinkled visage. "If Monsieur will give me a quarter of an hour I will wash and change into appropriate clothing.

"Of course, Maurice. I will wait until you're ready at the gate," Marc replied, with a warm smile.

With impeccable timing Maurice arrived at the gate where Marc waited. "Monsieur, I thank you again for this opportunity," he repeated, bowing once more.

Marc shook his head chuckling softly, saying, "Maurice I have told you—" his words fell away as he examined the man before him in the warm light of the approaching eve.

Where before a worn, old, haggardly man stood with shoulders bent under the burdens and hard labor of a peasant, now stood a confident well-dressed man of quiet dignity and honorable character. His old-fashioned but well maintained jerkin and doublet were both the highest quality linen dyed in shades of brown and indigo. No longer would he carry himself as the Baroness de Ghent's lowly hired man. Now, he would regain his rightful standing as a man of impeccable reputation within the community working for his one true mistress. Although the creases and marks of a hard life in an old body would remain, his self-respect had returned transforming him completely.

Marc smiled brightly making his eyes crinkle with delight. "If it pleases you to thank me, Maurice, I accept with honor."

"Merci, Monsieur," Maurice replied. The pair took the first step, when Maurice paused. "Perhaps I should saddle two horses. Of course, we have none so grand as those in the king's stables, but I have made sure all of the horses on the manor are sound and intelligent."

Marc raised his hand in objection. "If you forgive me, Maurice, I must decline your generous offer. Saddle a horse for yourself if you wish, but my duties seldom leave me time to enjoy the glories of The Almighty's creation. It is only because Mademoiselle de Ghent's insistence that I thought of walking to begin with. I find I wish more of this tranquility. When I left, Mademoiselle de Barbarac was sleeping and the king does not sup until dark. I believe we have time, and if the Baroness should return unexpectedly two horses might arouse suspicion."

Maurice shook his head, sighing. "Monsieur, de Laurant, I know I could die for saying this, but the Baroness wouldn't notice if the land was completely barren and the animals dead unless she needed some extra coin in her purse. Even then, she wouldn't hesitate to sell off la petite Mademoiselle to some rich lecher with or without the holy sacrament of marriage. She doesn't care where her coin comes from, as if she isn't disturbed while getting it." the old man growled.

A deep loathing seeped into Marc de Laurant's blood as he thought of who Maurice must have meant by 'la petite Mademoiselle'. However, he strove to keep his composure and kept his tone cool. "I assume you are referring to the youngest Mademoiselle de Ghent."

"Oui, Monsieur," the old man sighed, the deep lines of his face spoke more eloquently of the years of hardship and suffering he'd endured and seen. "What she did to my young mistress is unforgivable by the laws of Christianity and men, but what she's done to her own blood is defying the very laws of nature! The child has suffered far more than my poor, beloved mistress, for she has known no love her entire sixteen years!"

Marc halted dead in his tracks. His vision blurred and he nearly swooned as if he'd been unseated in a joust. "Excuse me, Maruice," he gasped out. "Mademoiselle Jaqueline in only sixteen years of age?"

Maurice hurried to the younger man, taking the heavy chest out of his arms. "Monsieur," he exclaimed terror ringing in his high voice. "Monsieur, are you ill?"

"Mon Dieu," Marc gasped, as he dropped to his knees. "I thought she was eighteen. Mon Dieu, sauve-moi! She's just a child."

"Monsieur, I beg of you allow me to go back and bring the horses. You are very ill!" Maurice exclaimed, terror struck by the young soldier's collapse.

At that, Marc regained his senses and rose from the ground. He took a few long, deep breaths of the fresh air. While his color returned and he once again turned his attention to his duty. "Non, Maurice, non," he replied in a kind and firm voice. "I merely tired after so long a day. We're near the north gate as it is. After I escort you to your mistress, I shall dine early and sleep. Let us continue."

Maurice wanted to argue that the young man must see a physician as soon as possible, but he saw its futility. "As you say, Monsieur."

The two men marched at a moderate pace toward the north gate of the palace each silently contemplating the new future dawning. As they drew nearer with each step Marc de Laurant the heir of Lorraine became certain of one thing. He could not fall in love with the quiet and wise Jaqueline de Ghent.