Disclaimer:  I do not own any of the characters in this story so far.  Unfortunately William (I love you Heath!!!), especially, is not mine.  I apologise profusely if I have offended any of you in writing this story.

            The camp was set up in Portsmouth ready for the troops to sail to France in three days time.  The previously green grass had been trodden down by the mass of horses.  The four men had been travelling for a couple of days and dusk was nearing when Will and his friends were in the queue to sign up.

"Next!  Next…NEXT!"  Shouted an officer.  "Name?"

"William Thatcher, Sir Thatcher."

"Age?"

"22 years"

"Thatcher, William…" muttered the officer.  "Ah yes, lot 17, tent 21-up with the legends there-eh?"

"What?  Oh!  Uh…yes."  William blushed.  He had been dreaming of his last kiss with Jocelyn.  As the men walked through the field Wat shouted.  "OI WILL-look 'ere Ro and me, we've been put wiv all the soldiers!"

"You are a soldier Wat-you're going into battle!"  Laughed Will.

"Yeah but Chaucer's with you and all them important knights and that-"

"That is because, I man, have a brain," interrupted Chaucer.  "Think about it!"

Chaucer and Will rode off to the stables, grinning as Wat and Roland followed, muttering annoyed to one another.

            Will strode into the tent, followed b a somewhat gleeful Chaucer.  They were dumping their bags down on the animal skin "beds" when Will heard footsteps behind him. 

"Well, well, well," said a stern, taunting voice.

"The "black night" returns" chortled Geoffrey.

"Ah Chaucer-the wooden writer-someone pitied you and made you a knight eh?  Oh…oops, sorry I mistook you for a man for a moment there!"  Count Adhemar's patronising tone and superior smile was soon wiped away, as William stepped in.

"Of course, Adhemar, if I remember correctly you were very much the man when I knocked you off our horse in the tournaments last year" he retorted sarcastically.  Adhemar looked disgustedly at Will and spat on the floor before striding away.  William turned to say something to Chaucer but he was nowhere to be seen. 

"You looking for Geoff?"  Asked Wat, poking his head round the entrance, "He hooked up with some…shall I say "courtesan"…either that or he went to get a full body massage with a rather…delic-I mean crude looking masseuse!"  Wat winked at Will's rather unsurprised face, tossed his head back in laughter and ran off singing at the top of his voice.

            William thought of Jocelyn at home in their big bed alone, with nobody to hold her or protect her, whilst he was here, in the middle of a cold field, with nothing over him but an itchy, dead animal.  He could not get comfortable-he was shattered and yet wide awake, and he wanted his wife's arms wrapped around him, caressing his skin, her lips gently touching his neck.

            Sitting on the window ledge of her chamber, Jocelyn thought of William, worrying about the battle he was going to face in just a few days…maybe less-nobody knew.

            A loud noise bellowed throughout the tents, sore to the ear, the men one by one, woke, startled.  It was the middle of the night…the early hours of the morning maybe-the siren should not have been going off now…not until three days time when they reached France.  The men could hear horses running around, and the boats were being loaded.  William went out side, dreamy still and not fully aware of what was going on.

"All men aboard!  THE WAR HAS NOW BEGUN!"  The opposition troops had arrived early.  William's journey had begun.

A/N:  I have had some discussions and tips about the historical inaccuracy of this story.  I would just like to say THIS WAR IS MADE UP.  IT IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE BASED ON A REAL EVENT.  THIS IS A S-T-O-R-Y…that is fanF-I-C-T-I-O-N.  Thank you (don't mean to be rude!) xox