Disclaimer: Of course (and unfortunately) I don't own any of the characters
(or dialogues) appearing in "A Knight's Tale". But I'm a fan, writing a
fiction (got it? fan - fiction? hehehe), so I'm bold and use them. It's
like me and my mom's car: I don't own it but I use it... Where was I? Oh,
yeah, disclaimer.... well I also don't own any of the "real" historical
persons who (might) appear in my story.
A/N: I wanna say that history really wasn't my favourite subject in school. I love the Middle Ages though, which doesn't mean I knew very much about it. So please don't search for ANY correct historical fact - you'll probably won't find one... Oh, double future tense, can't be right can it? Which leads me to the next: I hate grammar - especially tenses! I know there were many mistakes in the first chapter and it won't be much better in this chapter or in the future ones. So please be kind and try to ignore them. I hope you understand what I mean inspite of the mistakes. If not ask me about it...
Last but not least: Chaucer. He is/was a genius. "My" (cf. Disclaimer) story-Chaucer will be a mixture of the film-Chaucer (wasn't Paul Bettany great???) and the real one. I'll probably give real-Chaucer-quotations, too, which I'll mark and explain then... That's O.K. isn't it? If not please tell me.
Feel free to review and don't sue...
Enjoy.
~*~
~It was raining when Geoffrey left London. It was raining when he reached the muddy street south. It was raining when he met the boy: he was sitting under a tree by the side of the road. But it was November, so the tree was not much help: the boy was wet from head to toe. How old might he have been? Thirteen? Fourteen? Surely not older! His black hair clung to his head as did his clothes to his body. The trousers and shirt were much too large for the famished-looking boy. Probably clothes from an older sibling which had to last for some time. Clothes were not cheap!
As he drew nearer Geoffrey recognized that the boy had a little pouch hanging on a leather band around his neck. The pouch was very small not to say tiny but nevertheless big enough to rouse the interest of light- fingered and frauds.
"You should be more careful with that." Geoffrey said pointing at the pouch as he reached the soaking wet figure leaning against the tree trunk.~
*"Huh?" Maureen looked up to the tall figure on the brown and threatening huge horse. She had sat under the tree for half an hour now waiting for the rain to stop. But it had rained on and on. Now it seemed to vanish slowly. It really was time: she was soaked and feeled very desperate. It was now four days since - no, she didn't want to think about it! She hadn't eaten anything since then and her stomach emphaticly demanded food.
At least she had found some new clothes: they had been laid into the sun for drying and nobody else had been there. Among some other things there had been everything she needed: trousers, shirt, a bandage, even a little pouch and a cloth of leather. It had been a sign of God she was very sure. She had coiled the bandage tight around her chest and put on the trousers and shirt (which were somewhat too large for her making her look quite young). Then she had put the necklace into the small pouch and hanged it around her neck. The picture of her mother she had folded into the cloth and stuffed under the bandage near to her heart. She had folded her dress neatly and had laid the knife next to it.
There hadn't been shoes (her own had looked too much woman-like) but it hadn't mattered - until the rain had set in. It had been impossible to walk on with bare feet. Even the meadow had been too muddy to walk on. So she had sat down by a tree she had been passing for there had been no shelter or any other dry place...
And she hadn't seen another traveler until this tall man with his horse had come. In awe she had observed the horse frightened it could harm her. It nearly had passed as the rider had made a halt and spoken to her. She had been too frightened to understand what he had said.*
~"I said you ought to be more careful with your pouch. Thieves would be very interested in it. Better put it under your shirt."
"Oh...um...yes - thanks." The boy hid the little sac under his shirt trying not to move too quickly: he obviously did not want to scare the horse.
"Are you afraid of my friend Troilus here?"
"Who?"
"Troilus - my faithful horse."
"Oh...well...yes." The boy answered after a while without looking up. He seemed to be unsure and coy. And his voice was quite light. He obviously was still waiting for his breaking of the voice.
"You do not have to. He is good. Where does your way lead you?"
"Down to London." ~
*She didn't knew why she had told him. Just had had the feeling of doing so.
"The street's going down, yes, but to Brighton. London's UP the street!"
"Oh no!" Maureen was shocked! She wanted to go to London because Cole once had told that people live totally anonymus there. Nobody would know or even care about her former life.
Two days ago when she had reached the road she hadn't been knowing which way to go so she had done the only thing possible: "One, two, three, kitty's on a tree, doggy's sitting under her, this will be the right way, sir."
And now this soaking wet stranger on the scary horse had told her that she had gone into the totally wrong direction! She might had been already in London by now!*
~The boy looked very shocked.
"Have you not noticed that the milestones said 'Brighton' not 'London'?"
"I cannot read!" The boy suddenly was aggressive.
It had stopped raining meanwhile, so Geoffrey got down, took a blanket and his food bag and sat down next to the boy who stiffened at once.
"Like something to eat?"
"N-n-no, thank you."
"But you look quite famished. You do not have to be suspicious or something. Here - it is good."
Hesitating the boy took the piece of bread and cheese with big eyes. He seemed not to be used of friendly strangers. Geoffrey gave him also the two apples then put the bag back to his saddle.
"What's your name?" he asked the boy while doing this.
"Er...Ryan." He said. Then added "Pickle" It sounded as if he had made up the family name just now.~
*"Er...and yours?" she dared to ask. She didn't know why but she really was interested. She liked the stranger. Not only because he gave her food. He just was...nice.
He made an elegant bow: "Geoffrey Chaucer's the name, writing's a game."
"What?"
"Nothing." Grinning he sat down next to her again and motioned her to sit on his blanket, too. She did so and felt the comfortable warm and dry blanket under her.
Suddenly she caught herself observing the man named Geoffrey Chaucer. He was really tall, and lanky, with blonde hair and icy blue eyes. He frowned.
"Something wrong?"
She blushed and shook her head. 'Why did I have to blush?' she asked herself. 'Don't act stupid, Maureen! Boys don't blush!!!'*
~Had he really blushed? It had only been for seconds so Geoffrey was not quite sure. He openly observed the young boy. He was small, fine featured, skinny - and bedraggled. His skin was pale but there still were traces of dirt in his face: the rain had not washed everything away. His eyes were dark - and unbearable sad. There even was a haunted glance in them. What the tale of the boy might be? Perhaps it was worth a story. Suddenly Ryan stood up. 'Have I stared too much?' Geoffrey asked himself.
"Er...I must go. Thanks for the food."
"Are you sure? The street is still very muddy."
"I'll walk on the meadow. It'll do."
Geoffrey did not know why but he did not want the boy to leave.
"What do you want in London? I mean, you even did not know WHERE it actually is."
"I'd just lost my way!" Ryan hastily answered "I'm on my way to my uncle. He's surely already waiting for me. Gotta go."
"Er, yes..all right. ... But wait a little!" Geoffrey grabbed his food-bag from his saddle. "Take it! You will need some food. London is still three days footpath away."
The boy looked stunned.
"Don't you need it yourself?"
"Well, no. I am on my way to a friend and I am almost there. I think I will reach him this evening. I will get a good dinner I expect. And I will do without food until then."
"Oh, then...thank you very much, sir." He tried a bow which looked quite clumsy but was surely well-meant. Then he turned towards London and marched on. Thoughtfully Geoffrey fastened the blanket back behind his saddle then mounted and rode on. Then he turned his head to gaze after the boy. He had a feeling that this was not the last time that he saw Ryan Pickle.~
A/N: I wanna say that history really wasn't my favourite subject in school. I love the Middle Ages though, which doesn't mean I knew very much about it. So please don't search for ANY correct historical fact - you'll probably won't find one... Oh, double future tense, can't be right can it? Which leads me to the next: I hate grammar - especially tenses! I know there were many mistakes in the first chapter and it won't be much better in this chapter or in the future ones. So please be kind and try to ignore them. I hope you understand what I mean inspite of the mistakes. If not ask me about it...
Last but not least: Chaucer. He is/was a genius. "My" (cf. Disclaimer) story-Chaucer will be a mixture of the film-Chaucer (wasn't Paul Bettany great???) and the real one. I'll probably give real-Chaucer-quotations, too, which I'll mark and explain then... That's O.K. isn't it? If not please tell me.
Feel free to review and don't sue...
Enjoy.
~*~
~It was raining when Geoffrey left London. It was raining when he reached the muddy street south. It was raining when he met the boy: he was sitting under a tree by the side of the road. But it was November, so the tree was not much help: the boy was wet from head to toe. How old might he have been? Thirteen? Fourteen? Surely not older! His black hair clung to his head as did his clothes to his body. The trousers and shirt were much too large for the famished-looking boy. Probably clothes from an older sibling which had to last for some time. Clothes were not cheap!
As he drew nearer Geoffrey recognized that the boy had a little pouch hanging on a leather band around his neck. The pouch was very small not to say tiny but nevertheless big enough to rouse the interest of light- fingered and frauds.
"You should be more careful with that." Geoffrey said pointing at the pouch as he reached the soaking wet figure leaning against the tree trunk.~
*"Huh?" Maureen looked up to the tall figure on the brown and threatening huge horse. She had sat under the tree for half an hour now waiting for the rain to stop. But it had rained on and on. Now it seemed to vanish slowly. It really was time: she was soaked and feeled very desperate. It was now four days since - no, she didn't want to think about it! She hadn't eaten anything since then and her stomach emphaticly demanded food.
At least she had found some new clothes: they had been laid into the sun for drying and nobody else had been there. Among some other things there had been everything she needed: trousers, shirt, a bandage, even a little pouch and a cloth of leather. It had been a sign of God she was very sure. She had coiled the bandage tight around her chest and put on the trousers and shirt (which were somewhat too large for her making her look quite young). Then she had put the necklace into the small pouch and hanged it around her neck. The picture of her mother she had folded into the cloth and stuffed under the bandage near to her heart. She had folded her dress neatly and had laid the knife next to it.
There hadn't been shoes (her own had looked too much woman-like) but it hadn't mattered - until the rain had set in. It had been impossible to walk on with bare feet. Even the meadow had been too muddy to walk on. So she had sat down by a tree she had been passing for there had been no shelter or any other dry place...
And she hadn't seen another traveler until this tall man with his horse had come. In awe she had observed the horse frightened it could harm her. It nearly had passed as the rider had made a halt and spoken to her. She had been too frightened to understand what he had said.*
~"I said you ought to be more careful with your pouch. Thieves would be very interested in it. Better put it under your shirt."
"Oh...um...yes - thanks." The boy hid the little sac under his shirt trying not to move too quickly: he obviously did not want to scare the horse.
"Are you afraid of my friend Troilus here?"
"Who?"
"Troilus - my faithful horse."
"Oh...well...yes." The boy answered after a while without looking up. He seemed to be unsure and coy. And his voice was quite light. He obviously was still waiting for his breaking of the voice.
"You do not have to. He is good. Where does your way lead you?"
"Down to London." ~
*She didn't knew why she had told him. Just had had the feeling of doing so.
"The street's going down, yes, but to Brighton. London's UP the street!"
"Oh no!" Maureen was shocked! She wanted to go to London because Cole once had told that people live totally anonymus there. Nobody would know or even care about her former life.
Two days ago when she had reached the road she hadn't been knowing which way to go so she had done the only thing possible: "One, two, three, kitty's on a tree, doggy's sitting under her, this will be the right way, sir."
And now this soaking wet stranger on the scary horse had told her that she had gone into the totally wrong direction! She might had been already in London by now!*
~The boy looked very shocked.
"Have you not noticed that the milestones said 'Brighton' not 'London'?"
"I cannot read!" The boy suddenly was aggressive.
It had stopped raining meanwhile, so Geoffrey got down, took a blanket and his food bag and sat down next to the boy who stiffened at once.
"Like something to eat?"
"N-n-no, thank you."
"But you look quite famished. You do not have to be suspicious or something. Here - it is good."
Hesitating the boy took the piece of bread and cheese with big eyes. He seemed not to be used of friendly strangers. Geoffrey gave him also the two apples then put the bag back to his saddle.
"What's your name?" he asked the boy while doing this.
"Er...Ryan." He said. Then added "Pickle" It sounded as if he had made up the family name just now.~
*"Er...and yours?" she dared to ask. She didn't know why but she really was interested. She liked the stranger. Not only because he gave her food. He just was...nice.
He made an elegant bow: "Geoffrey Chaucer's the name, writing's a game."
"What?"
"Nothing." Grinning he sat down next to her again and motioned her to sit on his blanket, too. She did so and felt the comfortable warm and dry blanket under her.
Suddenly she caught herself observing the man named Geoffrey Chaucer. He was really tall, and lanky, with blonde hair and icy blue eyes. He frowned.
"Something wrong?"
She blushed and shook her head. 'Why did I have to blush?' she asked herself. 'Don't act stupid, Maureen! Boys don't blush!!!'*
~Had he really blushed? It had only been for seconds so Geoffrey was not quite sure. He openly observed the young boy. He was small, fine featured, skinny - and bedraggled. His skin was pale but there still were traces of dirt in his face: the rain had not washed everything away. His eyes were dark - and unbearable sad. There even was a haunted glance in them. What the tale of the boy might be? Perhaps it was worth a story. Suddenly Ryan stood up. 'Have I stared too much?' Geoffrey asked himself.
"Er...I must go. Thanks for the food."
"Are you sure? The street is still very muddy."
"I'll walk on the meadow. It'll do."
Geoffrey did not know why but he did not want the boy to leave.
"What do you want in London? I mean, you even did not know WHERE it actually is."
"I'd just lost my way!" Ryan hastily answered "I'm on my way to my uncle. He's surely already waiting for me. Gotta go."
"Er, yes..all right. ... But wait a little!" Geoffrey grabbed his food-bag from his saddle. "Take it! You will need some food. London is still three days footpath away."
The boy looked stunned.
"Don't you need it yourself?"
"Well, no. I am on my way to a friend and I am almost there. I think I will reach him this evening. I will get a good dinner I expect. And I will do without food until then."
"Oh, then...thank you very much, sir." He tried a bow which looked quite clumsy but was surely well-meant. Then he turned towards London and marched on. Thoughtfully Geoffrey fastened the blanket back behind his saddle then mounted and rode on. Then he turned his head to gaze after the boy. He had a feeling that this was not the last time that he saw Ryan Pickle.~
