Writing about A Knight's Tale in the year of our Lord, 2021.

The blacksmith walked briskly between the many tents. She didn't mind the crowded feel of the tourney and its marketplace. It was lively and loud, smelling strongly of animals and crisp bread and warm steel. There was something incredibly "human" about the sort of life lived here.

Kate nearly rolled her eyes. That thought could have been Geoffery Chaucer's rather than her own. For all his fancy words, he certainly loved life among the masses.

While she didn't find anything about the swell of humanity around her distasteful, she was looking forward to the relative quiet and solitude of her waiting forge.

But it seemed as though she'd have to wait a little longer. As she made her way back to their staked corner of the tournament, she passed another of the tents in their party. Its occupants had moved their embroidery outside, and spotted her as she passed.

"Kate, come sit with us!" Lady Jocelyn called out, musically.

The farris briefly considered feigning deafness, but she relented almost immediately. Christiana's company was always welcome, and in the months they'd been traveling together, she'd even learned a new appreciation for her ladyship.

"I was just heading back to the forge," she explained, knowing they'd talk her out of it already.

"It'll keep a minute more. Share a moment with us; we hardly see you these days."

Christiana added her request, "Please, Kate."

"Alright. But I can't stay too long." She'd come around to the company of the other women, but there really was work waiting.

Jocelyn looked pleased when Kate took the seat beside her. She felt out of place on the silken pillow even if her skirts weren't yet covered in soot today.

The noblewoman went on happily. "We'll take whatever time you have. We were just talking about Roland. He seems quite taken with Christiana."

The French maid flushed prettily. "He is very kind."

Jocelyn smirked at her friend's embarrassment. "And she returns the sentiment," she told Kate conspiratorially.

It was interesting to hear news from this angle. More often than not, Kate was privy to conversations on the other side of things. She'd watched the men of their group tease Roland relentlessly about his quick attraction to Christiana. She'd even helped with the teasing.

But it was good to confirm what they'd all suspected: Christiana was just as taken with

Roland as he was with her.

"He'll be glad of that," she responded truthfully. "Roland's a good man. I'm happy for you both."

Jocelyn turned her way, and Kate felt the danger of her attention like heat off the forge. "What about you, Kate?" the taller woman asked.

"What about me?"

Her ladyship continued to smile. "Well, Will and I are to be married. Christiana and Roland are finding love with each other." Here she paused, and Kate could see that Jocelyn really did relish the happiness of her friends over the gossip. She continued. "Our party has two other eligible men. Do you happen to favor one of them?"

But she did still like the gossip.

Kate was beginning to wonder how she'd become trapped in this conversation. And how she could possibly make her way out. "Wat and Geoff?" she asked unnecessarily.

"Yes!" Jocelyn leaned forward, eager for her reply. "Doesn't one of them quicken your heart?"

"They're both very different," she said, stalling for time. It wasn't as though the men didn't ask her questions like this. They had, and did still sometimes. But if it was any of them asking, she could just punch the offender and be done with it. Somehow she doubted that approach would work with her ladyship.

Christiana, at least, was nodding along with that sentiment. "They are," she agreed, no doubt picturing the two men who were, like as not, arguing somewhere in their very camp.

Kate pictured something similar. "They're both idiots."

Jocelyn's smile grew more wry. "They are men."

That drew a brief harumph from the blacksmith who knew too well the great idiocy their group was capable of. But then, wasn't that why she loved them?

And she did love them. "Wat's got the temper of a feral cat and he's just as scrappy in a fight. His face goes as red as his hair when he spews an untranslatable mess of threats."

"He certainly has spirit," Christiana said, diplomatically.

"Aye," Kate agreed. "And he's as loyal as they come. Once his, he'll stand by you forever. He's simple, but what lass could ask for more?"

She'd seen Wat get himself in plenty of trouble in their time together, but just as often he was bounding into danger to get one of his friends out. He was the butt of many of their jokes, and he'd dole it out in equal measure. But he'd never abandon a single one.

Lady Jocelyn was quick to pick up the affection in Kate's voice as she spoke of her good friend. "So Wat has your attention then?"

Kate decided it was easier, and safer, not to answer. Instead, she directed her mind's eye to the other man mentioned. "Now Chaucer's an idiot in a whole other way. His words are highbrow, but his humor is not. Sometimes you just want to strangle him for talking. And he'd be more than likely to gamble away a household if he had one."

Not a word could be disproven, but Kate knew it wouldn't exactly come off as a complaint. She'd said it with far too much fondness.

Jocelyn, in particular, seemed unconvinced. "But surely his words are good for something?"

If only the woman knew who'd penned the words of Will's love letter. "Oh, he can spin a pretty verse and look at you in such a way so that you hear it about yourself. And for all his quick mouth, he's a good listener, too. He can spot the beauty in an ember, and when he's writing there's not a thing in the world that could tempt him away."

Kate thought of the man in question, bent double over parchment in the light of the forge, quill scribbling so madly that she could hear it between strikes of the hammer. Every now and then, he would look up and stare unseeing. She supposed he was watching the worlds he brought to life with his pen. She could always tell when the words found him again; his eyes sparkled.

In quieter moments, between new creations for them both, he'd read her the words he'd written. And she'd show him the skill and beauty of her trade, too, and he would stand in open mouthed wonder as she turned and twisted steel into tool, metal into mechanism.

In wilder moments, he'd fly into the space that had somehow become theirs and tell her the stories that hadn't yet made their way to parchment - the news of the day, of their friends, of his heart. And she'd tug him from his seat at the commontable to some new spot she'd found - in the city, in the meadow, in the places they hadn't yet discovered together.

Kate felt her smile grow unbidden. "He's not a perfect man, but he is uncommonly good."

Jocelyn's eyes were shining with discovery and excitement. "Kate, do you hear yourself?" she asked. "You have feelings for Geoffery Chaucer!"

To deny it seemed futile. "I suppose I have."

"Will you tell him? You must let him know!"

She dipped her head, the better to conceal every feeling that showed on her face. "I'll consider it. But I ought to be getting on now."

The blacksmith rose and made for the street to continue her trek to the forge. Jocelyn called after her, "Please tell us how it goes!"

Kate did manage to find a few peaceful hours at the forge, interrupted only when Geoff joined her for what was now a typical afternoon. But then, could a thing be an interruption when one planned their day around it?

He was in a writing mood today, and for a while they gave themselves over to their respective projects. When she'd finished the breastplate she'd been working on, she felt his gaze on her. Putting her things away, Kate joined him at his customary perch.

"I spoke with her ladyship today," she told him without preamble. Lengthy introductions were Geoff's business, after all.

The writer raised a curious eyebrow. He well knew her feelings on Will's chosen bride, though he also knew they'd softened in recent months. "Oh? And how was that?"

Kate shrugged. "About as you'd expect. She asked me if I had feelings for either of the two men in our group left unattached."

Chaucer chuckled outright at that. "Is that right?" His tone shifted to one of mock seriousness, but his eyes still held a playful light. "Is there to be a duel for my lady's hand?"

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "Haven't you lost every fight you've ever had with Wat?"

"I have not. Roland usually stops him before he can fong me."

She shook her head laughingly. "Forgive me, but I have no confidence in your dueling skills."

Geoff acknowledged the weakness with a graceful bow of the head. "So what did you tell Lady Jocelyn?"

She studied the edge of his stack of parchment and replied deadpan. "I told her it was Wat."

He stiffened beside her, eyes incredulous. "You didn't."

The farris laughed at his worried expression and leaned into his bony shoulder. "No, I didn't. I talked about you both and our wise lady suggested that I might have feelings for some idiot writer."

Geoff relaxed beside her, taking one of her hands and bringing it to his lips. He met her eyes, the playfulness back. "You didn't think to just tell her we've been together for months?"

She grinned. "Seemed more fun this way."

"You're positively devilish. I like it."

"You just like me."

He stopped, holding her apart as if studying her face and everything that lay behind it. "No," he said slowly. "No, I do believe I love you."

Her breath caught for a moment at the sincerity of his words. Geoff was known for always having something to say, but she could always tell when it was something he meant.

"That's good to know," she managed. "Seeing as I'm in love with you, too."

"According to Lady Jocelyn," he teased.

"According to me own heart," she corrected, her brogue slipping through with the sentiment. "I love you, too, Geoff."

She kissed him then, and he kissed her back, in full view of the street and anyone passing by. Upon separating, Geoff glanced meaningfully out the open walls. "Are we letting people know then?"

"It's not ever been a secret really. People just haven't noticed."

He grinned cheekily, an expression that immediately made her want to kiss him again. "I might just have to announce it then."

"Alright, herald," she told him.

"Alright, blacksmith," he said, taking her hand. "Let's go tell them about our love so they can all be jealous."

Kate had to admit, she was looking forward to seeing Lady Jocelyn's expression.

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