CHAPTER 5

 

"I have good news for you," Mother said.

"Hmm?" Juliana didn't stir from her position by the window. She could see the forest of tents from here. A veritable village had grown up in the meadow, and it was already astir with life. People scurried hither and thither, ant-like at this distance. But there was a pattern to the movements, Juliana spotted it with approval. From tents to stables and back again, to and from the water troughs, to and from the long shed set up as a privy. She had to admire the level of organisation, the attention to detail, the effortless competence with which it was all achieved. Alan's doing, Father had told her the previous day, beaming with approval. Splendid man. Excellent choice by Caroline. Proud to have him for a son.

She had wanted to ask Father about Emmanuel. But there was no opportunity: they were never alone, and she could not broach such matters in the company of others. Besides, Mother was sure to hear of it, and demand answers Juliana could not give.

So she let Father talk on about Alan, while inwardly she stewed. It was good to see Father so happy. But Juliana couldn't help but wonder what he'd say about Emmanuel, if she summoned up the courage to ask. Whether he'd shine with the same unaffected delight in the man's accomplishments, whether he'd be as proud and fond of Emmanuel as a son.

They got on well, she had no doubts on that score. Father had always spoken highly of Emmanuel as a lord and neighbour. But would he be ready to accept Emmanuel as true family? Juliana wasn't sure.

"Jean de Cote," Mother said. "You know he looked very well yesterday."

"Indeed he did," Juliana said meekly, not remembering. Jean was a dear boy, she liked him a great deal, she had no doubt her family would welcome him as one of their own should the occasion ever arise. But that was no concern of hers. She was thinking of Emmanuel.

"Yes, I recall you mentioned it." Something in Mother's tone - an unusual degree of satisfaction - made Juliana turn and stare. Mother was beaming, much like Father when he spoke of Alan.

"What of Jean?" Juliana asked blankly.

"Well, my dear, his mother and I had a little talk yesterday. You know he's keen to get married, and with our families so close it would be a very comfortable match. And since I know you like him... in short, my dear, we thought the two of you would be very happy together."

"No," Juliana said, cold dread growing in her heart. "Absolutely not."

"Don't be silly, dear. You know you must marry some day. With Jean you would not need to move far from home. We would still see each other often. And I could pop over now and then to give you advice - even come and stay with you for a while. It would be so cosy, the two of us. We don't get to spend enough time together these days. The little ones take up so much time. But Merin is very good with them, and to be frank I think I need a holiday. So many cares, you know. With you married to Jean - "

"No!" Juliana cried out, with such force that her voice rang between the walls.

Mother stopped short, and stared at her in pure shock. So did two of the younger girls, who had been busy combing each other's hair.

"I will not marry Jean," Juliana said, in a voice that shook despite her efforts to control it. "I will not marry anyone except - " She broke off. How could she mention Emmanuel now, after the way she behaved when he spoke?

Madeline frowned, confusion overcoming horror. "Except whom?"

"A man I choose myself," Juliana said, gathering what shreds of dignity she could around her battered spirit. "Do not make arrangements behind my back. I refuse to honour them."

"You can't." Madeline had regained something of her usual crispness, though she was still a shade paler than before. "I have already spoken to his mother, and by now she will have spoken to her husband. It is an understanding between families, dear. You would not wish to cause dissent within the neighbourhood."

"Stuff the neighbourhood," Juliana said bluntly, and wished she had courage to use a stronger word. The one Emmanuel had deployed with such thoughtless ease would do very well in this situation. But she didn't dare. "I am not marrying against my wishes simply to stay on good terms with other people."

Madeline drew in a deep breath, and visibly strove to compose herself. "How can it be against your wishes? He's a fine young man, you've always been friends, what is there to object to? If I were trying to force you on a man you found repulsive, I could understand your feelings. And indeed I would never do such a thing. But you like Jean."

"As a friend," Juliana insisted, so emphatically that her voice bordered on a shout. "As a brother."

Madeline flinched.

Juliana instantly felt guilty. Remorseful, even. The lack of a son was a deep grief to both her parents, she knew. But although Father spoke most on the subject, Juliana had suspected for some time that Mother felt it worst.

Especially now, when Caroline had married so well. In Alan, Father had found a grown son to share all manly things with. But Mother could never be a part of that - and she would never know what it was to love a little boy of her own.

"Not as a husband," Juliana said, more gently. "Please, Mother. Try to understand. I am not refusing to marry. But I do refuse to be made unhappy. If you force me on a man I don't want, no matter how good and pleasant he is, I will not comply. You can't expect me to. And you can't make me," she added, suddenly both feeling and sounding like a stubborn child.

"We'll speak of it later," Madeline said, angry but subdued. "I trust you will at least be civil to Jean's family this morning. They are to sit by us, you know."

God. Juliana resisted the temptation to scowl. Sulking would get her nowhere. But the extent of Mother's scheming infuriated her.

"Which side does he fight on?" she asked instead. "I suppose it won't hurt me to cheer for them."

Madeline softened visibly. "That would be entirely appropriate. He fights on the house side."

"Oh good," Juliana said. "Then I won't be offending Alan." She even managed a smile. Because she could cheer for Emmanuel's men now, and even Mother would think nothing of it.

She did like him. Emmanuel. And he liked her. Wanted her, even - he'd said and shown as much. While she... but she refused to berate herself any more. She'd been startled, hesitant, afraid. And why shouldn't she be? Cautious by nature, she'd always held back in every situation until she was certain of her path. This road to an entirely new and different life, one she knew nothing about and never could until she arrived, must surely merit greater circumspection still.

So Juliana would not hold her earlier reticence against herself, even in thought. Nor would she entertain the fear that Emmanuel did so. If he truly loved her as she actually was, he would understand her caution - even love her for it.

She wished she could believe that.

Juliana bit her lip. Things sounded so simple when Caroline spoke. So clear and tidy and certain. Left to herself, Juliana began to feel surrounded by doubts.

But if Emmanuel loved her... She would cling to that possibility.

She held to it hard during the hours that followed. Jean's family were kindly people, she had always liked them very much. But now she grew wary of their friendliness, saw in it the pressure to make her one of their own. She didn't want that. Felt almost hostile at the thought.

"There he is!" Jean's mother exclaimed, pointing. "Doesn't he look fine?"

Actually, Jean looked much the same as any one of the other men, as far as Juliana was concerned. But she nodded and smiled and pretended to admire, at a loss for what else to do. She couldn't bring herself to be outright rude. Jean's kind mother had done nothing to deserve it.

So she watched, or pretended to, and let her gaze slide along to a far more attractive figure. Emmanuel, tall and proud in gleaming armour and bright surcoat. Him she could fasten her gaze on, and gladly.

"Such a dear boy," Jean's mother enthused. "And of an age to take an interest, if you understand me. I was speaking to your mother yesterday, and we agreed it would be a splendid thing for the families to draw closer together."

"Yes," Juliana said tersely. "Mother mentioned that."

"No hurry, though." The older woman patted Juliana's arm. "You mustn't feel pushed, my dear. He's my son, and I love him, so of course I think he'd be a prize for any young woman. But you'd be wise to reflect, and consider your own feelings."

Juliana stared at her in surprise. "Thank you. I mean... yes, indeed I will." She hesitated. This lady, after all, knew her well - and knew men and marriage, too. "Can I ask you, as a friend... How do I understand what my feelings are? Or what they might be in the future?"

"Let God take care of the future. You just be truthful in the now."

Truthful. Juliana searched her heart. Then turned her attention fully on Emmanuel, who rode past her in splendour.

It was him she wanted. Only him.

And the fear that had sprung upon her when he spoke, the chill terror she had struggled to comprehend, stood revealed now as the sense of her own inadequacy. What did she have to offer him, after all? There were prettier girls, and chattier, and more interesting. Merin, for one. Why he should desire Juliana was a mystery.

But he did. He'd said so. And he paused now, briefly, as he passed before her. Directed such a glance at her that she trembled, and then he bowed low. Right there in front of everyone, and the murmur that started up from the crowd assembled all around her in the stands was like the beginnings of a storm. Juliana blushed as she felt curious eyes directed at her from every direction. But she mastered herself, bowed a little in return, even managed a smile.

"Oh," Jean's mother said, in a tone of awe. "I do apologise. I never guessed things stood that way."

Juliana sought for words. Couldn't find any that sounded right.

Emmanuel rode on. The murmurs lingered, then faded away. Juliana breathed more freely.

"He's a splendid man," Jean's mother went on. "Always so considerate. Mindful of his position. He'll take thought for others first, because he's used to being more powerful than they. My husband's mother says he was a darling boy even as a child. She says he once asked her to let him know if he got too much above himself, since he worried others might be afraid to."

"And did she ever have cause?" Juliana asked, amused.

"She says not." The lady smiled. "I dare say there must have been a time or two. Children are heedless on occasion. But there was never any malice in him, or indifference either, according to her. A caring boy. And a responsible man, now. Very highly regarded. You can't do better, my dear." She recollected herself, visibly. "If it's what you truly want, of course. I can't tell you to search your heart and then attempt to push you into a course that is not your own."

"No, no." Juliana returned the smile. "I understand perfectly. And that is exactly my idea of him, though I never knew him as a child." She winced. "I mean, when he was a child."

"Naturally." Jean's mother gave her an indulgent look. "Whereas we've all known you from a baby."

Juliana flushed. Here she was trying to be grown up, mature and ready for marriage, yet she was surrounded by people whose perception of her had been set since before she understood who they were.

"And you were always a sweet girl," Jean's mother went on fondly. "So quiet and watchful. There's more to you than meets the eye, I always thought. But then, you're Madeline's daughter. A remarkable woman, your mother."

"Is she?" Juliana turned towards Mother, curious. "In what way?"

"Clever and determined," Jean's mother said. "But so very charming that everyone forgets. She could have made quite a match, you know. But she chose your father - for love. That tells you something about the kind of woman she is."

Juliana studied her mother, strangely alien in these new surroundings. Saw a woman entirely in command of herself and her company, relaxed and confident in her own power.

Not unlike Emmanuel, in a way.

Juliana turned to watch for him, and saw him now in the distance, recognisable only by his colours and his position on the field. She sent a blessing his way, wished him joy and success on this and every morning of his life. Admitted to herself that she truly wanted to share in that life, on terms both physical and emotional, no matter what the cost.

Because there was a cost. She knew that too.

"May I ask," Juliana said diffidently, "how you found the whole matter of... children?"

"Darlings," Jean's mother said decisively. "And demons, sometimes. But that's what attendants are for."

Juliana cringed. She didn't know how to make things clearer without becoming coarse. "I meant... bearing them."

"Appalling. But I'm lucky - I survived virtually unscathed. Some women are not so fortunate. Emmanuel's late wife, for instance... but you'll not want to hear about that." Jean's mother patted Juliana's hand. "Never you mind, dear. Try not to worry. Trust in God, and all will be well."

Juliana quailed inwardly. But she must be brave, because cowardice never led anyone to victory. She knew that much from stories and songs.

"We all die in the end," Jean's mother said cheerfully. "Enjoy life while you have it, is my advice. Along with youth and health - you have no idea what a difference those make. But don't fear the future. It will come regardless, and you'll meet it better if you live with joy."

Juliana laughed, and abandoned her gloomy thoughts. "I will do my best."

"Do that," Jean's mother said. "God will take care of everything else."

A trumpet blast cut off the conversation. Out on the field, men and horses gathered pace. Juliana held her breath as the gap between the two forces shrank. A murmur rose all around her in the stands, and gave way to shouts as the opposing teams crashed together.

The defenders trembled under the ferocious onslaught, and for a tense moment Juliana thought they would break. But they rallied again, found strength and courage, slammed back in a counter-charge that shook the attacking line into fragments. Clusters of men locked together in combat, so harsh from this distance that she feared they would die. But they didn't, they fought on, dealt out blows and received as many, shouted and jeered. Laughed, too - she could hear them all the way across the field. They were enjoying themselves. Actually having fun.

She sought out the one figure who most interested her. He moved with bold confidence, hacked and slashed at another man - who met him with such intensity that she gasped, and knew for certain who it must be. Guillaume, that giant of a man, entirely loose now and free from restraint. She recalled their exchanges from the day before, and smirked as she imagined the words they might be using while she was not by to hear.

"Such a brave boy." Jean's mother glowed. Juliana nodded enthusiastic agreement, then realised the woman was talking about her own son. For courtesy, Juliana spared him a glance. He was trading blows out on the fringes, capable enough as far as she could tell but far from the main centre of the action. Even as she watched, he flinched and fell. Moments later, his assailant bowed and rode off in search of new prey.

"What a pity," Juliana said politely. "I hope he's not badly hurt."

"So do I," her companion said anxiously. "He's back on his feet at least, that has to be good. Yes, and walking well also. Just a tumble, nothing worse." She relaxed visibly, in evident relief.

Juliana made sympathetic noises, then returned her attention to Emmanuel. He was getting the best of Guillaume, aided by a slight figure who darted and weaved and dodged every blow. Alan, Juliana realised, and watched in frank admiration. Having seen both men close to, she would never have rated Alan a chance against such a formidable opponent. But he fought with intelligence, set his speed and deft handling against the brute force that met him. Alone, he must have been vanquished - but together with Emmanuel, he must win.

Dizziness overcame her, and Juliana realised she'd held her breath for far too long. She forced herself upright, and consciously drew air into her lungs. There was the final blow that threw Guillaume from his horse - and it was Emmanuel who dealt it. Juliana squealed aloud with delight.

"What's that?" Jean's mother said. "Goodness, they're getting the best of it. I never would have thought as much. Those without are strong today."

"Those within are stronger," Juliana exclaimed. And they were - they forced the attackers back now, and down. Guillaume was unhorsed, she could no longer see Emmanuel - no, there he was, likewise on foot, while Alan on horseback circled the pair.

"Hardly sporting," Jean's mother said, but with half a smile. "Mind you, I don't blame them."

"Two against one?" Juliana shook her head. "With most men, perhaps - but when one is a giant..."

"No, I meant remaining on horseback against an unhorsed opponent. But then, if a man won't yield, I suppose he must take his chances." Jean's mother shrugged expressively, as if to disavow all such folly. And her own son, Juliana reflected, had been quick enough to yield.

Juliana said nothing about that, however. It might be taken as a barb, and she had no wish to hurt or offend such a kindly companion.

"I wonder how long it will take for them to beat him down," Jean's mother said. "They should get him, of course - two against one. Still..." She trailed off, and watched the little cluster of men with an indulgent gaze.

Juliana gratefully seized the opportunity to settle back and watch with unashamed interest as the small private battle unfolded.

***

"Yield, you bastard." Alan circled Guillaume for the third time, whacking at him with a sword.

Emmanuel, much amused, was content to hold back and watched the two friends at play. For playful it was, now, he could see that much despite the blows and snarls.

"Never to you," Guillaume growled. "Fucking runt." He slammed his shield up to drive off Alan's blows.

"I would intervene," Emmanuel said pleasantly. "But you're beaten in any case, so I'll let my host do the honours."

"Why, thank you." Alan took a moment to bow in the saddle. Guillaume seized the opportunity to stab up at his face.

Emmanuel took one long stride forward and slammed his shield into Guillaume's exposed back, forced him over, then kicked out hard to bring him to his knees. Alan levelled his sword at Guillaume's throat. Emmanuel quietly levelled his own at Guillaume's neck.

"You're dead many times over," Alan said patiently. "Give in now and we can all go back to the house for a couple of drinks."

Guillaume muttered an oath that startled even Emmanuel's much-abused ears.

"Matilda is waiting," Alan went on in a reasonable tone. "See, she's over there, laughing at you. Why is she not coming to your rescue, I wonder?"

Emmanuel glanced aside at the mounted knight who watched the spectacle from a short distance away. She certainly showed no inclination for an urgent assault.

"It's because she's thirsty," Alan said, in the tone of one explaining swordcraft to a child. "And believes she's worked enough for one day, which happens to be true. And also, perhaps, because she would dearly like to see you act rationally for once."

Guillaume had turned to study the knight likewise. Then whirled around with a sudden blow that caught Emmanuel completely off guard. Instinct brought Emmanuel a quick shuffle back and something approaching a block, but it took him another step to regain composure.

"Yield," Alan said.

"Never." Guillaume swung back to stab at him again.

Emmanuel brought his shield up, and with a pang of regret slammed it into the back of Guillaume's head. Alan followed with a sword-blow that rang against the helmet. Guillaume crumpled to his knees, slumped forward and seemed sure to fall, but still held off from total collapse.

The knight rode closer, unhurried. "For God's sake, man. Let them take you down for once." Her voice was pleasant - amused, and more than a little exasperated.

Guillaume merely growled.

Emmanuel permitted himself a moment of rueful admiration. Then he slammed his shield down against Guillaume's head and finally forced the man to the ground.

"Victory at last." The smirk was audible in Alan's voice. "You're down, Guillaume. No need to yield now, because you've forfeited that right. I'll have your horse and armour, the moment you're safe off the field."

Guillaume muttered an obscenity and attempted to rise. Emmanuel shoved a quick boot against the man's neck.

"You're long gone," Emmanuel said. "Fought with honour, died with pride. Don't make us humiliate you in front of the lady."

The knight chuckled. "I don't mind."

"You're not taking my horse," Guillaume objected, his voice muffled. "I fucking like this horse." But he lay still. The fight was over.

Emmanuel stepped away and scanned the field for other opponents. None presented themselves.

"Victory for those within," Emmanuel declared with great satisfaction. "Battle over." And how pleasant it was to see the fallen rise again and shuffle off the field, laughing over the blows that brought them down, instead of writhing in their death throes. He did enjoy fighting for sport.

He turned towards the stands, paused long enough to pick out the one figure he most wanted to see. Raised his shield to her in triumph. She wouldn't know what it meant, perhaps wouldn't see it at all. But he wanted to dedicate this moment of success to her.

Dear Juliana. His own love, to guard and keep and cherish for the remainder of his life and hers. How long that would be, he did not know. But it was worth paying any price, even if they never achieved the perfect union of a loving husband and wife.

At least for him, it was.

She must be the guardian of her own body and heart. He couldn't do that for her. All he could do was swear to himself now, in his heart, and on peril of his soul, that he would always do his utmost to keep her safe and happy and well.

For an instant he thought there was an answering gesture from her, a raised hand that gleamed pale against bright-coloured cloth. But perhaps it was only his imagination, led astray by wishes and hope.

She did not want him for a husband. He knew that now - though no longer with bitterness and grief. With calm clarity, rather. Whatever she wanted was dear to him as it was to her, be it with him or without.

He could not foist his wishes on her. Although she had not given him an absolute refusal, her silence had been answer enough.

Emmanuel reviewed the moment again in his mind. She'd stood completely silent and still, as if stunned. Which was hardly the response of a girl whose affection towards him might possibly deepen into love.

And yet he could have sworn, by the way she touched him in the moment before, that her heart brimmed with adoration for him, just as his own did for her. That had led him to speak - far too bluntly, he acknowledged that without pretence, and far too hastily as well. He'd meant to lead up to the question by stages, ask it with greater decorum and respect.

He'd forgotten, in that moment, how young she was, how sheltered and inexperienced. She'd heard of love, no doubt, dreamed of it perhaps - but that was a far cry from finding herself in the midst of the real thing. Emmanuel knew that well, he recalled his own ardent dreams as a youth, his astonishment when all of a sudden they took physical form and breathed alive beside him.

Juliana could not have been prepared for that. And he'd been a fool to spring the reality on her so abruptly.

Emmanuel shook his head at the thought. Apparently he could still behave like the impetuous boy he'd been once, despite the years that lay between them.

But one thing he had learned during that time was that few mistakes were irrecoverable. He would speak to Juliana again. Not to press her - if she did not want him, then that must be answer enough - but simply to make certain that her hesitation was not based on fear or dread or uncertainty.

If she knew what she wanted, and it was not him, then he must accept that and learn to be content. But she was young in years, and cautious by nature. Her silence, which he had taken for rejection, might have another cause.

If so, he owed it to both of them to speak again. Once only.

After that, he would be silent forever.

Guillaume struggled to his feet. Emmanuel offered a steadying hand, and the pair of them slowly made their way off the field of battle, while Alan and Matilda rode side by side behind.

***