Chapter 5: A Visitor and a Dance

Although the Doctor only arrived in the hall a few moments after Rosalind—he was moving somewhat slowly due to the cramping in his legs—he felt as if he had missed something important, walking as he did into a commotion. Robert was standing toward the far end of the great hall with Blanche beside him, watching benevolently as Rosalind was swung in the arms of a large dark-haired man of roughly her own age. "Will," she squealed, "you came!"

"Of course I came! Did you think I would miss the wedding?"

Robert stepped forward, leading Blanche. "Will, I want you to meet Blanche, the princess of France, my fiancée."

The man called Will disengaged himself from Rosalind and approached Philip's sister. Despite his familiar greeting of Rosalind he behaved with perfect formality now, bending low over the hand she offered him. "My lady. It is a pleasure and an honor. Welcome to Northumberland."

Blanche murmured a reply as Rosalind turned and her gaze settled on the Doctor. His heart jumped at her warm smile and her beckoning gesture.

"My lord, this is William Forster, son of the governor of Bamburgh Castle, one of my father's most loyal men. Will, may I present King Philip of France?"

The young man went down on one knee in a somewhat dramatic but charming gesture. The Doctor encouraged him to rise and the two men exchanged a few pleasantries before Will excused himself, turned back to Rosalind, and swept her into another hug.

"Well, Rosie, you look a right mess. Have you been out tearing around on Thunder already? And by the look of it, dragging the king of France with you."

She giggled and swatted his arm. "I'm going to clean up now, William. Go see my father and pay your respects. He has been keenly anticipating your arrival."

Will bowed low in exaggerated deference. "As my lady wishes."

After the two had left, Robert came to stand at the king's side. "Will was fostered here from the time he was eight. He grew up with my sister, as another brother in our house."

"They seem very fond of each other." Was that a touch of jealousy in his own voice? Surely not, although he did see Robert's eyes slide sideways to consider his face.

"Will's been betrothed for years to the daughter of one of his father's allies. It's a good match for him, although I regret it at times, as I think Rosalind could have been very happy with him."

The Doctor had no idea how to respond to this, and it took him a moment to quell the spike of annoyance in his own gut at the remark. He settled, therefore, for a small smile at Robert before turning to Blanche with an inquiry about the progress of the wedding preparations.

That evening, another dinner was held in the great hall. This time, it was Will who sat between Edward and Rosalind, and it was impossible to miss the improved tone at the high table. Will's easygoing demeanor seemed infectious. When he spoke to the earl, Will did not abandon the cheeky tone he had used on Rosalind and Robert; to the contrary, he was—or seemed—oblivious to the man's generally grim countenance, laughing and teasing throughout the meal. In turn, Edward softened in a way the Doctor had not seen him do with his own children. Robert, on the Doctor's other side, looked calm and happy as he chatted with Blanche. Rosalind, meanwhile, looked particularly radiant this evening, and not only to his own eye. She seemed to flower in the more relaxed atmosphere that dominated the hall, smiling more freely and even laughing at some of the comments Will directed at her. The Doctor, seated on the earl's other side, could not see her as well as he would have liked, but he heard the happy timbre of her voice and her laugh drifted down the table to him at regular intervals.

After the meal was cleared, Will had addressed himself to his foster father, asking if there might be music and dancing. Once again, the Doctor was struck by the difference in tone from two nights before, when Robert had made the same request in an attempt to quash the simmering tension in the room. Edward readily agreed to Will's suggestion and Will turned immediately to Rosalind, beckoning her with a mischievous grin. She curtsied, took his hand, and joined him on the hastily cleared dance floor. Robert led Blanche to the floor thereafter, and others followed. Those who did not dance stood around the edges of the hall, watching the spectacle. The Doctor found himself next to Donna, both leaning against a stone pillar at the edge of the crowd. The other non-dancers in the gathering kept a respectful distance from the king of France and his supposed mistress. The two shared a smile and both relaxed a bit, happy to be alone in each other's company, or at least out of the earshot of others.

"That boy should visit more often," Donna commented, inclining her head in Will's direction. "The place feels halfway friendly with him around." When the Doctor did not reply she continued, "Rosalind looks pretty tonight. She sent word to Blanche asking if Blanche's maid might do her hair. It looks lovely."

He let his eyes linger on Rosalind, who was dressed, as always, in a simple gown, but this one was a deep wine color that particularly suited her. Her hair was indeed much more elaborately dressed, high on her head with jewels visible in it. It exposed the length of her neck and throat—unlike Blanche and many of the other ladies of the court, she wore no veil covering her head. Perhaps most importantly, she looked genuinely at ease dancing with Will. Her eyes shone and her smile never wavered as they clasped hands and went through the complex steps of the circle dance.

Donna spoke again. "Will seems to be good for her too. Wonder if anyone's thought to marry off those two?"

Here he finally answered her. "Robert said that Will already is betrothed to another lady, to cement an alliance of his father's."

"That's too bad."

"Mmm." He kept his eyes on Rosalind even though he could feel Donna's gaze on him. Finally he turned his head to look at her. He knew what she was thinking—that he was getting too involved with this girl—and his first instinct was to be defensive, but he saw the affection and concern in her eyes.

"Donna, I'm alright, really. It's not Rose. I know that. I'm…I'm fine."

She gave him her softest smile. "You're always alright, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I wish I could hug you, Doctor."

"Me too." He brushed her arm lightly with his fingertips and they turned back to watching the dance.

She entered his room, as usual, without knock or other preamble. "Big brother."

"Little sister."

Robert laid down the book he was reading as she approached; a book that she had copied for him for his last birthday. He often used reading as his way of relaxing before going to bed, letting his body and mind slow down. He was stretched out on his window seat, which was lined with a long cushion and scattered with pillows, making it an appealing place to sit. In the daytime it was warm with sunlight, and now, at night, it offered a view of the stars, albeit somewhat distorted by the thick glass.

Rosalind picked up the small codex where he had laid it down. "Ah, Roland. I was just talking about this with the king today." She climbed into the seat next to him, her back straight against the window. She tucked a pillow behind her to make her comfortable and draped her legs over his.

Robert asked, "Did he know it?"

"He had heard it sung, but not read it. Imagine, being at a court with real troubadours! And I wager they have real scholars and thinkers at the palace in Paris too, not just sour old cathedral clerics." She shook her head and replaced the book at her brother's side.

"I was just re-reading my favorite part."

"Roland's death?"

"Mmm. When he tries to break his sword to keep the enemy from getting it."

"Philip told me there's a shrine in the hills in the middle of France where there's a sword lodged high in a cliff-face. They claim it's Durandal—pilgrims come to see it, along with the saints. Has to be a fake, of course, but still…wouldn't it be lovely to see?"

She still wore her red dress, but she had taken down her hair and brushed it out, then quickly made a braid at each temple and joined them at the back of her head with a clip, keeping the hair out of her face. It reminded him of the style she had worn as a young girl. He reached out and touched her cheek. "You seem happy tonight."

"I am. I realized how much I miss having Will here. Father is so much more contented when he's around. He lifts the gloom." She paused. "Hopefully we gave the king and Blanche a better impression of our family tonight."

Their eyes met and as usual he followed her train of thought. "Are you angry that I told him about Mother?"

She sighed and shook her head. "No. After the incident at dinner that first night I knew he'd be concerned. You had to tell him if you wanted to ensure the match. I just wish…"

"What?"

"I wish I didn't require explaining. I don't want to be an impediment to you. I just…let my temper get the better of me." She scratched at a faded ink stain on the palm of her left hand.

He grasped her chin and forced her to look at him. "Rose, you are many things, but you are never an impediment to me."

She smiled lovingly at him and nodded. They sat together in companionable silence until she spoke again. "Are you in love with Blanche?"

"In love? You've been reading too much poetry."

"But she is beautiful. Such a fine lady." He snorted at this description and she continued, a bit defensively, "Well, you have been spending a lot of time with her."

He forgot, sometimes, how young she still was. "She is beautiful, yes. And I am going to marry her in two days. I want to like her. Indeed, I hope that I might love her one day, and that she might love me. Because of that, I want things to get off to as good a start as possible."

"If you behave as if it's true, it might someday be true?"

"Exactly."

She hesitated, then said, "Aren't you afraid to love her, like Father loved Mother? Look what it did to him."

"Look what it did to all of us. But…we can't live being afraid of what will happen. You could die. I could die. I could have died when I had that fever last year. But we love each other, you and I. We love despite the risks."

She shivered and snuggled into his chest. "Don't talk about the fever, Rob. It was terrible."

"I'm sorry."

After another quiet stretch, he remarked, "The king watches you with interest."

She chuckled. "The king watches everyone with interest, hadn't you noticed? You can see why he's a successful king."

"What do you mean?"

"He sees everything. He has spent—what—an few hours in my company? And yet yesterday and today he was analyzing my motives and my emotions with startling accuracy. And he never says much. Just watches, and thinks, and gets other people to talk too much." She leaned back to give her brother a significant look, and he flushed. "It's fascinating and it's unnerving, the way he behaves."

"He sounds like someone else I know."

"What, me? No. I watch and think, yes, but then I get flustered and say the first thing that comes into my head, and pay for it."

"Hmm." He pretended to consider the point. "It is possible you are not the most diplomatic person."

She poked him in the ribs. "You don't see me as queen of France, then, eh?" Her eyes twinkled with amusement.

"To be fair, you only really clash with Father."

"You're giving me too much credit. My behavior dismays lots of people. Not you and Will, of course. But particularly Father, you're right." She smiled. "You see, that is why you can't ever leave me, Rob. I'd be alone here with Father. The earl and the bad wolf. We'd tear each other apart." Her tone was light but he knew better.

"You know I don't like it when you call yourself that."

"I didn't come up with it."

Robert sighed. "He was drunk at the time."

"I remember. I have a scar to prove it." She rotated her wrist thoughtfully.

He put an arm around her. "I'm here, Rose. I'll be here. No plans besides being earl, marrying Blanche, and giving you lots of nieces and nephews to dote on."

"I'll make a wonderful eccentric aunt."

His face in her hair, he whispered, "That you will."

They sat together a while longer before she yawned and extracted herself from the seat. "'Night, Rob," she murmured, placing a gentle kiss on his temple and returning to her own chamber.