The trophies looked so nice when they weren't covered in dust.
William stood in front of his shelf and blew lightly on the statue of a man on his horse. That had been his last trophy before Jocelyn had died.
Most he had sold for money to pay Wat and Roland for their help, to Chaucer for his wonderful introductions, and for Kate to get more supplies to keep his armor in top shape. He glanced at the armor sitting on his chair. It looked distant; something from his past that he couldn't quite get rid of.
He bent down slightly, trying to remember how it felt on his back. It was lighter than anyone else's and it had been all his. It was still his, if he was up to the challenge.
He shook his head and turned away. Those days were over. He had no reason to be dangerous anymore. The thrill of adventure had gone away with Jocelyn and he wasn't sure he wanted to bring it back. His life was stable. Everyone's lives were stable.
Roland had been working in a pub since Will had quit jousting. Geoffrey was still writing and was starting to make a living with it. Kate was becoming more serious with Wat, and Wat...
William shook his head. His friend's life was not stable anymore. Cora had shown up completely unexpected and had riled up Wat more than he had seen him in the past year. She would be good for Wat; she would bring excitement, and a new voice to the table.
And William... William was living with his father, helping him make nets.
William had never been the same since Jocelyn's death, and although he felt the pain inside, his friends recognized it in his features. They would catch him staring outside his window, staring at nothing, really, but staring all the same. Before Wat and Kate had started a relationship, Will had tried one with her. After a week it had ended miserably with her threatening to throw hammers at him if he talked to her one more time. Kate was such a good friend.
He hadn't had the interest to be with other women. There was no one around for him- cheap side was starting to become even more run down and less crowded. Soon no one wanted his attention, even if he was a knight. He had to admit it; he was becoming quite a bore ever since he was left alone. But he had his father, who took up a ton of his time, even though Will enjoyed it. But William had always wanted kids.
He smiled, remembering himself as a child. He was earnest and learned all he could from Sir Ector. But he wanted one for himself, one he could teach and talk to, one to laugh with and tell stories to. His son could learn how to be a knight, he could joust and-
Will felt himself swell with pride, thinking about jousting. Just as quickly he pushed the feeling back down. How would he have children if he became injured from a joust? Who would love him if he lost an arm? His mother had left his father over his blindness, and William would rather die than go through that pain and heartache. It would be even worse than losing Jocelyn.
A loud crash from the next room interrupted his reverie and he ran to find out what had happened.
He almost threw up at what he saw.
"I want my money old man!"
"I don't know what you're talking about! I make nets!"
William stared at the man holding his father down on the floor, knife to his neck.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" William yelled. The man holding the knife jumped, startled that there was another man, a younger man, in the house.
The man quickly turned back to his father. "He owes me money for a bet."
"You have the wrong man!" Williams voice was panicked, trying to sort through the information.
"This is him! Thatcher, they said."
"Who are they?!"
"Young bloke, about thirteen. Said Thatcher would pay me. And I want my money boy."
God how William hated kids. "You have the wrong man! I'm Thatcher, Sir William Thatcher. That man is just a visitor."
The man dropped his father and pointed the knife in William's direction. "Then you better be able to pay me."
Williams's eyes widened. He had money, but not enough to pay for a bet, and there was no time to borrow any from his friends. He had to think quickly.
"Leave, and I will get you your money."
"And how do you suppose you'll do that boy?"
"I'm entering the joust, and I will be tournament champion. Then you will have your money." Even as he said it William felt slightly sick, yet the familiar tingle of excitement was starting to build in him. His father glanced at him from the floor.
"That's no good! There is no guarantee you'll win!!"
"I have never lost before. You will have your money."
The man looked between William and his father, trying to decide.
He grunted loudly and pocketed the knife. "I want my money. All of it. By the end of the tournament. Or I will be back."
"Then you'll get it."
The man stared for a moment at William, and then turned to leave.
"If you don't, I'll make you just like your father. Sad, pathetic, and blind."
He spit on the ground and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.
His father scrambled on the ground. "William I-"
William shushed his father and helped him up. He led him to a chair and then let go.
A moment later his father spoke up. "Are you really going to joust son?"
But William didn't answer. He was already trying on his armor.
William stood in front of his shelf and blew lightly on the statue of a man on his horse. That had been his last trophy before Jocelyn had died.
Most he had sold for money to pay Wat and Roland for their help, to Chaucer for his wonderful introductions, and for Kate to get more supplies to keep his armor in top shape. He glanced at the armor sitting on his chair. It looked distant; something from his past that he couldn't quite get rid of.
He bent down slightly, trying to remember how it felt on his back. It was lighter than anyone else's and it had been all his. It was still his, if he was up to the challenge.
He shook his head and turned away. Those days were over. He had no reason to be dangerous anymore. The thrill of adventure had gone away with Jocelyn and he wasn't sure he wanted to bring it back. His life was stable. Everyone's lives were stable.
Roland had been working in a pub since Will had quit jousting. Geoffrey was still writing and was starting to make a living with it. Kate was becoming more serious with Wat, and Wat...
William shook his head. His friend's life was not stable anymore. Cora had shown up completely unexpected and had riled up Wat more than he had seen him in the past year. She would be good for Wat; she would bring excitement, and a new voice to the table.
And William... William was living with his father, helping him make nets.
William had never been the same since Jocelyn's death, and although he felt the pain inside, his friends recognized it in his features. They would catch him staring outside his window, staring at nothing, really, but staring all the same. Before Wat and Kate had started a relationship, Will had tried one with her. After a week it had ended miserably with her threatening to throw hammers at him if he talked to her one more time. Kate was such a good friend.
He hadn't had the interest to be with other women. There was no one around for him- cheap side was starting to become even more run down and less crowded. Soon no one wanted his attention, even if he was a knight. He had to admit it; he was becoming quite a bore ever since he was left alone. But he had his father, who took up a ton of his time, even though Will enjoyed it. But William had always wanted kids.
He smiled, remembering himself as a child. He was earnest and learned all he could from Sir Ector. But he wanted one for himself, one he could teach and talk to, one to laugh with and tell stories to. His son could learn how to be a knight, he could joust and-
Will felt himself swell with pride, thinking about jousting. Just as quickly he pushed the feeling back down. How would he have children if he became injured from a joust? Who would love him if he lost an arm? His mother had left his father over his blindness, and William would rather die than go through that pain and heartache. It would be even worse than losing Jocelyn.
A loud crash from the next room interrupted his reverie and he ran to find out what had happened.
He almost threw up at what he saw.
"I want my money old man!"
"I don't know what you're talking about! I make nets!"
William stared at the man holding his father down on the floor, knife to his neck.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" William yelled. The man holding the knife jumped, startled that there was another man, a younger man, in the house.
The man quickly turned back to his father. "He owes me money for a bet."
"You have the wrong man!" Williams voice was panicked, trying to sort through the information.
"This is him! Thatcher, they said."
"Who are they?!"
"Young bloke, about thirteen. Said Thatcher would pay me. And I want my money boy."
God how William hated kids. "You have the wrong man! I'm Thatcher, Sir William Thatcher. That man is just a visitor."
The man dropped his father and pointed the knife in William's direction. "Then you better be able to pay me."
Williams's eyes widened. He had money, but not enough to pay for a bet, and there was no time to borrow any from his friends. He had to think quickly.
"Leave, and I will get you your money."
"And how do you suppose you'll do that boy?"
"I'm entering the joust, and I will be tournament champion. Then you will have your money." Even as he said it William felt slightly sick, yet the familiar tingle of excitement was starting to build in him. His father glanced at him from the floor.
"That's no good! There is no guarantee you'll win!!"
"I have never lost before. You will have your money."
The man looked between William and his father, trying to decide.
He grunted loudly and pocketed the knife. "I want my money. All of it. By the end of the tournament. Or I will be back."
"Then you'll get it."
The man stared for a moment at William, and then turned to leave.
"If you don't, I'll make you just like your father. Sad, pathetic, and blind."
He spit on the ground and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.
His father scrambled on the ground. "William I-"
William shushed his father and helped him up. He led him to a chair and then let go.
A moment later his father spoke up. "Are you really going to joust son?"
But William didn't answer. He was already trying on his armor.