Chapter 10: Visitation

Jubilee grabbed Logan's saddle and bridle out from under her bed as she heard the others heading down to the river to bathe. She couldn't participate in that particular activity; even if she wasn't a girl, Logan had wanted her to bring his tack back this evening, and he was probably waiting for it right now.

She'd taken particular pains to clean his things. The leather of the saddle and bridle was good, and supple, but whoever had cleaned it last had been in a hurry or hadn't been particularly careful. Jubilee had spent an entire hour not only cleaning it, but also oiling it so that the leather was as soft and supple as the harnesses her parents used on their trick horses. When she was finished, the tack looked brand new. She was proud of her work, and she was certain that Logan would be happy with it too.

She hefted the saddle onto her shoulder and carried it down the trainee's hall until she reached the courtyard in the middle of the castle. Taking the steps carefully so she wouldn't trip and dirty the just-cleaned tack, she let her feet carry her where she was supposed to go.

Because of his status as a King's Knight, which elevated him a level above the ordinary knights, Logan had quarters in the royal wing. Jubilee actually found that she had to pass the Queen's suite on her way to Logan's rooms. She had taken to stopping in Logan's room after she went to see the queen; he'd never complained, just invited her in. And she'd spend some time telling him about how things stood with the training and what she'd learned.

She got to the top of the stairs, turned left, and mounted another short flight. She was almost at the top when a snicker interrupted her. Looking at the top of the stairs, she saw Nathan and his friends Roger and Stephen standing there. As their fathers were nobles and intimates of the King, they had suites in this wing too.

"Well, well, look at what we have here," Nathan snickered. "The little boy who would be knight." He smiled. "Is that heavy, little boy? Want us to lighten the load for you?" His friends took that as a sign, and descended the steps to intercept Jubilee. Roger grabbed the saddle, and Stephen on the other side grabbed for the tack.

Jubilee grabbed the leather and kept them from taking it from her all the way. "The tack is Sir Logan's, he asked me to bring it up when I was done cleaning it," she said angrily, pulling it out of the boys' reach. "He's waiting for me now."

"Oh, I'll bet he's waiting, most anxiously!" Nathan snickered. "But not for his tack, eh? He's waiting for you." His tone of voice left no doubt in Jubilee's mind of what he was talking about.

"He's waiting for his tack!" she cried indignantly. "Let me pass!"

"I don't think so," Nathan said nastily. "Not till you pay our toll. Say, "Please, my Lord Nathan, may I pass'…and I might let you."

Jubilee stared at him in disbelief. "As if I would beg you for anything," she said angrily. "Get out of my way."

"I could, of course, ask my father to have you flogged," Nathan said nastily. "Shall I try that?"

Jubilee stared at him. "You wouldn't," she said in disbelief.

Nathan smiled smugly. "Try me."

She shook her head. "I've wasted enough time on you," she muttered. And tried to push past Stephen and Roger.

They let her go, and made no moves until she had gained the top of the stairs. Then Nathan grabbed the edge of the saddle, yanking backward. Jubilee almost fell over as he pulled it from her shoulder and dropped it on the floor.

She turned on him, eyes flashing. "You bully!" she snapped. "Give that back!" She bent to pick up the saddle.

A shove from behind sent her sprawling. Before she could get up, a foot caught her in the ribs, and she gasped in pain, turning over and reflexively curling over on her side. Another foot in the midsection flattened her out, and then a fist to her face made her howl in pain. Tears started to her eyes, blurring her vision, and she didn't see Nathan draw his foot back.

The kick caught her right between her thighs. She screamed with the pain, tears spilling from her eyes, as white-hot agony erupted between her legs. Falling her knees and balling her fists between her thighs, she sobbed helplessly.

"What's going on!" came an astonished voice, and suddenly the boys were gone. Jubilee heard their pounding footsteps recede, but she was in too much pain to lift her head. There was a gasp, and then hands were touching her. Jubilee gasped in fear and tried to lash out.

"Here, here, it's just me, Mary," said a female voice, and Jubilee's mind registered that voice. Mary. Queen Renee's personal maid. Jubilee squeezed her eyes shut. Mary didn't know who 'Lee' really was. As much as Jubilee wanted to dissolve in tears, she couldn't. Not here, not now. Boys didn't cry.

Mary left Jubilee's side, hurrying off a short way, and Jubilee used the short interval to try and pull herself together. In moments, there was another set of footsteps, and another pair of hands were touching her. "I'm all right, I'm all right," she tried to gasp, struggling to her feet, but the words died on her lips as she saw Queen Renee's face.

Renee stared, appalled, at the bruised face of the young girl in front of her. She reminded herself, forcibly, not to call Jubilee's name in surprise in front of her maid, and instead said, "Mary, pick up the tack and bring it to my suite." She slipped an arm under Jubilee's shoulders and helped her into her room. "What happened?"

Jubilee sank down onto the padded chair Renee offered her and gasped out through gritted teeth, "Nathan…and Stephen, and Roger…they caught me at the top of the stairs, they beat me…" she curled over and clenched her thighs together.

Renee sighed. "Mary, please go and check the hall." As soon as the maid left, she explored Jubilee's groin with sensitive fingers. "Does anything hurt?" she asked gently, softly.

"Just…after they first kicked me there," Jubilee gasped. "The worst of the pain's going off." And was quickly being replaced by pain from the bruise over her left eye.

Renee sighed. "I can't call a physician to look at your body; they'll be able to tell immediately that you're not a boy. Where were you going?"

"Logan wanted me to clean his tack and bring it up after supper," Jubilee gasped.

Renee stood quickly. "I'll call him them"

"NO!" Jubilee half-rose from the chair with a soft cry. "He can't know! Please…don't tell him…"

Renee sighed and came back. "You'll have to tell him eventually, child," she said gently.

Jubilee's eyes filled with tears she tried to blink away. "I don't want to," she said softly.

Renee looked at her. "Being in love with someone isn't easy, my dear, but not acknowledging it is worse," she said. "Eventually you'll have to tell him. Give him a chance to love you back, at least."

"I'm not in love with him," Jubilee mumbled stubbornly.

Renee smiled to herself. The girl could deny it all she wanted to, but she'd seen the look in the girl's eyes in the evenings when she spoke of her mentor. She was in love; Renee was certain of it. And after seeing Sir Logan's face when they had spoken of his squire earlier, Renee wasn't entirely sure that Logan didn't care deeply about his squire as well. He didn't know Lee was a girl, of course, but Renee would eat her own crown if Logan didn't wish that 'Lee' had been born a girl!

The door opened, and Renee saw Mary come in. "Mary, Lee was looking for his knight," she said. "Would you please bring Sir Logan here?"

Jubilee started out of her chair, but Renee pushed her back down. "I won't tell him who you are," she said. "But he'll want to know what happened, and he's the only one who can call those boys out for injuring you."

Logan was sitting on a chair polishing his sword and dagger when there came a knock at his door. "Come on in," he said, not bothering to turn around. He was expecting Lee, so it was a surprise when a soft feminine voice intruded on his thoughts. "Sir Logan"

He spun. A female servant stood in the doorway; a quick look at her sleeve showed her wearing the colors of the Queen. "What happened ta the queen?" he gasped, standing and hefting his sword.

"Oh, nothing, nothing," the maid said, and he relaxed. "It's not the Queen, Sir Logan, I found your squire in the hallway after he'd been beaten by a couple of the nobles' boys. He's in the Queen's suite right now" Logan didn't wait to hear the rest of the maid's words. He raced down the hall to Renee's suite.

Renee raised an eyebrow as she heard pounding footsteps, and a second later Sir Logan appeared in the doorway. He acknowledged her presence with the barest hint of a nod, and rushed past her to where Jubilee was sitting on the chair. "Ya okay, kid?"

Jubilee looked up at him, fighting tears. She was so relieved to see him, he'd make it all better, and she was not in love with him! No matter what Renee said!

Logan stared down at Lee, his eyes taking in the black eye, the bruised cheek, and the small drop of blood making its way over the swollen lip, and clenched his fists. He had to fight to keep his voice steady as he knelt beside the chair. "Who did this?"

The lower lip trembled, but the boy didn't cry. Logan had to give him points for that; Lee was gutsy. "Nathan, and Roger, and Stephen," the boy said. "I cleaned your tack and got it all nice, and they caught me at the top of the stairs and they took it away and threw it on the floor…and then they started kicking me and hitting me…" Logan cupped the small chin in his hand, his heart aching as he thought of the number of times he'd experienced beatings from the upper-class nobles in his class. But that was different; he'd been seventeen, and well able to handle it. This boy was so much younger, so much smaller…and that bruise looked so nasty… The kid would be hurting in the morning. But at least no bones had been broken, nothing permanently damaged. He stood.

"Thank ya, Yer Majesty," he said, bowing over Renee's hand. "I'll take care o' the kid from here." He turned to Lee. "Come on now, boy. Let's go ta my room."

Lee got up off the chair, bent over, and gathered the saddle and bridle in his arms. Logan bit his lip at the look of determination, and his admiration for the boy went up another notch. He watched the boy leave the room, nodded once, briefly, to Renee, and then took the saddle from the lad as they left the Queen's suite. Neither of them saw the amused smile on the Queen's lips.

Logan dropped the saddle in the corner, followed shortly by the bridle, as he steered the boy toward the second bed in the room, the one that Collan, his previous squire, and occupied a year ago. The boy sat on the edge of the cot, and Logan used a handkerchief to wipe the smudges of dirt and blood away. "Ya sure ya okay?" he asked gently. The boy nodded.

Logan sighed. "Good. Ya up ta takin' a walk with me?"

Lee looked up. "Where?"

"We're gonna have ourselves a stroll over ta them arrogant nobles' rooms, an' make them boys apologize ta ya," Logan said grimly.

"No!" Jubilee said, in alarm. "Don't do that!"

Logan frowned. "Why not?" he dabbed at the corner of the boy's mouth again.

"'Cause….half the boys think I'm a sissy…and if you go and step in for me, then they'll just think I'm sissy all over again. I don't want that."

Logan grinned in spite of himself. "Tough, ain't ya?' he sobered. "All right. Get on with ya, then. Back ta the barracks, 'fore they lock the doors. An' I won't say anythin' ta them spoiled brats if ya don't want me to."

"I don't," Lee insisted. Logan laughed, ruffled the boy's dark hair, and watched as the kid disappeared out the door and down the halls. He waited a few seconds, then poked his head out the door. Lee was heading down the stairs.

He followed the boy down the stairs, then down the second flight, and waited until he saw the boy disappear through the outer door to the trainees' barracks before retracing his steps to his suite. Thankfully, it hadn't been as bad as some of the beatings he'd gotten when he was a trainee. One of the boys...Thomas, his name had been—had had his two bullyboys hold Logan while Thom had beaten him all over with a heavy wooden practice sword. Logan remembered how furious his mentor, Sir Engel, had been…and how Logan had begged him not to call the boys' fathers out for injuring his squire. Logan grinned. Full circle. Maybe those priests had the right of it after all.

He went to the corner, reached for the saddle and bridle. They had felt different, somehow, when he'd taken them from the boy's hand; he hadn't paid much attention to the difference at the time, but now he wanted to see what the boy had done to his gear.

He almost didn't recognize his own saddle when he looked at it. The leather had been worked to a flexible suppleness he'd never felt; when he'd bought the saddle it was fairly inexpensive, made of stiff, rough leather. It was all the newly knighted Logan could afford at the time. He'd never thought that the rough leather could be transformed into good leather just with a bit of work; if he'd known he'd have spent more time working on it! The leather was butter-soft now, supple, and would conform to his legs much easier than it ever had before. And his horse would surely appreciate it! Why, his saddle looked almost as good as the King's, now; Logan would be the envy of all the other knights.

He grabbed the bridle, looked it over. The red and gold fittings across the brow band and noseband gleamed as bright as they had when he'd first gotten it; the enamelwork had been polished, as had the buckles. The leather straps, stiff with his horse's sweat, was supple and malleable; and the hard leather edge to the reins, the edge that had always irritated the inner webbing of his hand between his thumb and index finger, was gone. Completely. Logan flexed it, rolled it; it felt like it was made of cloth, not leather. He smiled. Damn, that boy's good!

He put the tack aside, in the corner on the floor, and lay back on his bed. He was glad he'd kept the squire; imagine what his gear would be like when they were out in the field! True, Lee wouldn't always have the luxury of enough time to work the leather like this, but when he did get the time…!

It was too bad the boy would make knighthood eventually and go his separate way, Logan mused to himself. He liked the boy. Liked him a lot. When the Queen's maid had told him something happened to the boy, his heart almost stopped. He'd never imagined that he could care about a boy so much; but there was something about Lee. Logan didn't know what it was, couldn't put his finger on it; but he cared more for Lee than he had about Collan, and he'd known Collan longer! What was it about this boy?

Maybe…maybe he and Julian had more in common? Logan remembered picking the boy up after the fall from the horse. Holding Lee…it had felt…right, somehow. Like Lee belonged there. He'd had a funny feeling that he'd done this before, and with the same kid. He'd felt something…more of an impression than a memory, though he could swear that memory was involved, too. An impression of a small body, snuggled trustingly up against him, looking into his eyes, calling his name in tones of trust and loyalty…Logan had felt his body and soul respond to the soul in that small boy's body, in a way it never responded to anyone, anything else, before. It was odd, it was completely irrational, but it was the way he felt. It made no sense. None whatsoever.

It was too damn bad that the kid was a boy. Logan buried his head in his pillow, fighting the urge to shout in frustration. He'd never wanted a little boy. Never! Why the hell couldn't the kid be a girl? A girl like Lee…Logan could respect a girl like that. He could marry a girl like that. Hell, he could love a girl like that. And the kid had to be a boy. Oh, the unfairness of it!

With a groan of frustration, he buried his head back in his pillow.

He awoke some time later, to see the moonlight streaming into his room from the open window. He sat up, intending to get up and close the window, when something began to coalesce in the bright beam of light streaming across the floor. He stared as a tall woman with flowing hair materialized in that beam of light. Hair so pale that it looked silver in the moonlight flowed around a sculpted, high-cheekboned face; and the figure was tall.

"Who..." he tried to say, but no sound came from his throat.

The figure smiled, and the eyes pinned him. Those eyes were white, lacking pupil or iris, but he had no doubt that those eyes were looking at him, a gaze so intense that he froze, unable to move. And in that moment, he knew who his visitor was. "Goddess," he choked out. The figure looked like all the statues he'd ever seen of the Great Goddess. Not that he'd seen many. Druids, the pagans that practiced the ancient religions and who the Christians called 'witches' were few and far between. The inquisition that had purged the land of their presence had destroyed as many of those images of the Goddess as they had destroyed Her worshippers.

The Goddess smiled, and his heart almost stopped at the beauty, the radiance of that smile. "Fear not," the voice shot through him, pierced his mind and heart like an arrow. "I shall not hurt you. I came with a message. What you wish for is before you. Let not your anger overrule your heart, or the circle will be broken, and you shall not have that which you long for now, or in your next life. Or the one after that." The voice hinted at a dire fate, and he felt a sudden sickening lurch somewhere near his heart; loneliness, emptiness, a hunger that would never be satisfied…and suddenly, in the Goddess's cupped hands he saw a small figure with black hair and blue eyes, wearing an odd sleeved cloak dyed an impossible shade of yellow. The figure dissolved almost as soon as he looked at it, and he blinked. He hadn't seen it clearly, but the face had looked like…looked like…

Logan sat bolt upright in bed, gasping as though he'd just run a mile. He looked around his room. Everything was where he'd left it; the moon shone serenely through the open shutters, and the dust on the floor hadn't been disturbed at all. He got up and went to the window, pushing the shutters closed with a muttered curse, and flopped back down on his bed. He was asleep in minutes. When he woke the next morning the memory of the little yellow figure was forgotten, but a snippet of the words remained.

Let not your anger override your heart, or you shall not have that which you long for…