The badge proved every bit as odd as Eleanor had expected. A single green berry banded with the characteristic yellow stripes with a gold crown about its middle, probably intended to make it look less like a boring green blob. Well, there was nothing she could do and now her father had decided on it she had to use it.
Fulk was going to be ecstatic.
It took most of the day for Fulk and Eleanor to get chance to talk alone. In the end Eleanor had to resort to a family favourite; the garden. She declared she wanted a bit of air. Because it was a cool day Aveline wanted to stay inside and Juliana was trapped with her. Fulk ‘escorted’ her over to the garden and left her at the gate before looping around and making his way unseen to the back wall where he could climb over.
They would not be disturbed because Eleanor had told the guards she wished to be alone. As long as they kept their voices down no one could hear them talking, so the guards would swear she had been alone if anyone asked. They made their way to a bench near the middle of the garden and sat down. As they were side by side Fulk speculated about risking putting an arm around her but he decided against it. It might be safe in every meaning of the word but with the story he was going to tell it would not be a good idea.
He began his story with a question. “You remember how I told you about Cicely?” Eleanor confirmed she did with a nod. “Well, as I said that ended when I left for France with my father. After we crossed the narrow sea we made our way to a friend of my father’s in Evrout. He had a small fief at Tancarville, near the coast where we landed. Visiting him was one of the reasons my father had been eager to make the trip; the itch to do a bit of fighting and make some money was only a secondary reason.”
“Mathieu de Tancarville and my father had fought side by side in their youth, in one of the previous wars. They had become fast friends. On my second day in his castle I heard someone crying; I investigated, reasoning I’d nothing better to do. I found a girl sat in the small garden, crying because her pet cat had been run over by a cart and killed. Her name was Maude.” It had been years since he had said that name aloud, and now it felt unfamiliar on his lips. “She was de Tancarville’s only child. He doted on her; poor chap had lost all his other children in infancy. Being the gallant type I am I couldn’t just leave her so I went over and talked to her.”
“Was she beautiful?” asked Eleanor. It was clear she thought she could see why Fulk had remained; in light of his Cicely story he couldn’t blame her.
Fulk remembered golden hair, delicate blue eyes set in an oval face, a mouth that, as the troubadours said, just begged to be kissed. “Yes, she was,” he agreed. Eleanor looked worried, as if she thought he preferred Maude to her. He reassured her, “There’s no comparison between the two of you. She was cute and mild tempered, whereas you’re…” He shrugged.
Eleanor produced her graceful frown, just as he’d hoped. “What? I am what?”
“Annoying,” he said with a disarming grin.
“Thank you, turbot face,” grumbled Eleanor.
“My pleasure, oh dewdrop of delight. Now, back to Maude. I kept talking away, using my nice noble’s manners and all. She barely said a word, even when she did it was no more than two or three strung together. I think the longest thing she said was, ‘My name is Maude.’ I did get a few smiles, and because of that I kept going. She had a nice smile, and I could see she was cheering up a bit. Eventually I took her back inside.”
“That’s when we both found out who the other was; you can imagine the scene – her father thought I was some dreck chasing after his pretty daughter and mine wondered what I’d picked up this time.” Fulk winced slightly. “Ah yes, that was fun.” Maude’s father had threatened to geld him with a blunt knife while his own had complained that one day Fulk was going to get himself killed by a wronged husband.
Eleanor laughed. “I see you come out as the villain in both parent’s eyes.”
“I know – it was so unfair,” whined Fulk overemotionally. His face set into an unconsciously hard expression as the story began in earnest. “Things calmed down when they found out what had happened. We stayed at Tancarville for just over a week. I spent most of my time with Maude, partly because she sought me out, partly because I liked trying to get her to smile. By the time I rode out with my father’s few soldiers and de Tancarville’s levy Maude and I had become quite close.”
“We joined up with one of the local count’s armies, patrolling for French raiders and doing a bit of raiding ourselves. I was disgusted; there was no real fighting and no chances for glory. We were out for the best part of three weeks, finally returning to Tancarville when the army broke up with it’s job done.”
“We’d been back for a few weeks when de Tancarville took me to one side and told me he’d been trying to find Maude a good match; she was fifteen and of an age to marry even to his protective eyes. He had promised that he would give her a say in matters, I told you he was soppy for her, and that she’d kept refusing everyone. Then he stunned me; he said she’d asked him to consider me. He said he’d never heard her string so many words together at once in all her life. He liked what he’d seen of me and he was willing to overlook my bastard’s status because of his friendship with my father. All I had to do was earn a knighthood so Maude wouldn’t be disgraced by the match; nobles don’t marry bastard nothings. A bit of status combined with the promise of my future and my skills would be enough just enough to enable to me to marry into the minor mobility.”
“So, we were betrothed. She loved me and I …” he sighed, some of the hard set of his face easing as he thought back to the boy he had been, “and I loved her with all the fervour of a seventeen year old boy.” He glanced sidelong at Eleanor, uncertain as to how she would react to that. Nothing. Her face was well schooled into neutrality. Already he was losing her. His heart ached and in that moment he was not sure what he would do if she discarded him.
He resolutely fixed his gaze back at the garden ahead of him and continued, his earlier briskness of speech augmented now by a touch of defensiveness. “I wasn’t too happy with waiting; any knight can make another and I was surrounded with them. I’d always assumed I’d be knighted, and I’d always craved the extra status to counter my parentage somewhat. Suddenly that knighthood became an obstacle; it was all that stood between me and what I wanted – Maude, land that would undoubtedly be mine, respectability, the kind of future I’d have had if I’d been legitimate.”
“I kept asking my father to knight me or recommend me to another who would but he always refused, counselling prudence. I was too young, he said, another year and he’d be happy to speak to someone on my behalf. A year would give me time to grow and mature, to make a bit of a name for myself and for the details of my roundabout inheritance to be settled. Maude was a heiress but I should bring something to the match myself, he said. He was still negotiating with his liege to let his land pass to me as a new tenant, with a bit more time I would be his heir in all but name. I didn’t want to hear about time, or prudence or patience. I wanted it all
now. We quarrelled; I remember my exact words.” Fulk stopped. When he continued his voice was low, “I told him ‘I will be a knight, with or without your help, faithless bastard.’”
“That was too much; when they left to join the next army they left me behind to cool my heels. I was too arrogant to see anything other than a slight to my skills, to see anything other than them holding me back and denying me my chance. The castle was fairly empty; most of the men were gone.”
Here it came, the bit which still reverberated in his life now, the indirect reason he was telling Eleanor his story instead of continuing to leave it to rot in a dark corner. He spoke dispassionately, as if he were telling of events that had happened to someone else, “One day Maude and I found ourselves alone in the solar; her maid was sympathetic to young love and all that so she vanished for a bit. Aside from that day in the garden we had never been left alone, there was always someone watching from a discreet distance. We’d exchanged a few chaste kisses and the like but being watched is very off-putting. That was the first time there had ever been any real passion involved and it was like throwing a lit torch on a bonfire of oil soaked wood.”
He paused, not needing to say more. He wondered if Eleanor now feared him and what he might do, just as he feared himself. He hoped not. He did not want to see her keeping him at arms length, always afraid the same thing might happen with her.
He couldn’t leave the story there, but to continue was only to get more damning. Regardless he had to go on. “Afterwards we panicked, her more than me but that was understandable. We worked through things; it wouldn’t matter – we would fake the bloodstain when we did marry so no one would be any the wiser that we’d … pre-empted things. Thanks to my plentiful experience with Cicely the whole coitus interruptus thing was nearly second nature to me so I had remembered that at least. It was unlikely there would be any inconveniently timed babies to complicate matters, but just to be sure I would get her some of the herbal tea my mother swore by. So, you see in the end it didn’t matter – no one but us would know.”
It was obvious Eleanor had no idea what half of what he’d just said meant. He wasn’t going to explain; there are some things you don’t talk about with princesses you have an inappropriate love for. At least Eleanor was never likely to get religious on him and point out it was a sin to impede conception, unlike Maude. Her poor confessor would have had to sit through her telling a story he had heard many times before from many people.
“Yes, well I think that maid knew – she damn well vanished the next day too, and the same thing happened again even though I had sworn to myself it would not.” Fulk flushed a deep red. “I was not very well acquainted with the concept of self-control. She was nervous and rather reluctant at being left with me but that soon wore off; a single kiss can spark things off if you get it right, though it honestly was not my intent.” No, this was how he had learned. “The third day-”
“I can guess,” interrupted Eleanor. She had gone slightly pink.
Fulk shook his head. She may as well have the full, unflattering truth. “No, there was one minor difference from the third day on – I stopped trying to control myself and started planning ahead. On the third day I showed up with a bit of fleece and some vinegar and the intention of seducing her.” Explaining to Maude exactly what they were for had been an unforgettable experience; they had both nearly died of embarrassment. “The maid was on our side, I was enjoying myself and I was finally getting somewhere with the idea of pleasing my partner too because I had a reason to care. Besides, we were to be married so it didn’t really matter what we were doing. The only reason we weren’t married already was because everyone was holding me back. That made it their fault, not mine. I had tried to be honourable and they had prevented me; any guilt or blame was theirs, or so I believed.”
“Our fathers were gone for about a week and a half before they sent a man back to fetch me; a sizeable French raiding party had been sighted heading towards Fauville. I was to go out and join them so I could experience a proper fight. Maude was not too happy, but I told her I would return a knight and then we could marry. She gave me a sword that had belonged to her grandfather, the blade I still carry, and told me to use it to win my spurs. I armed up and rode off with high hopes and great dreams.” His tone alone told that those dreams had turned to ashes.
“Our force caught up with the French one just outside Fauville. Since there were only a couple of hundred per side it was more a skirmish than a real battle. I was with the tiny contingent of knights and other heavy cavalry, mounted up and praying devoutly for the glory of a cavalry charge, to sweep down on the French and crush them beneath my horse’s hooves in a wave of glory that could win my spurs and make me famous. The archers skirmished a bit, and the cavalry waited. The infantry lines joined and still the cavalry waited. It was too much; I thought we were never going to see action. I could see my dreams fading away with each Frenchman someone else killed.”
Oh Jesú, the further he got into this the worse it grew. Time to tell her he had lied to her, and to explain why the spymaster had called him the hero of Fauville. “Remember how I told you the story of this battle before? I said a reckless young fool seeking glory started the charge alone. That fool was me. I knew the others would follow me, not wanting to be left out of the glory themselves, and I thought I would get the glory of being the man to lead the charge. I believed the charge would win the battle, and so I would have the glory of being responsible for our victory too. I targeted a group of infantry just in front of us; they were being held in reserve and protecting the right flank.”
“I was shot down by a crossbowman some twenty odd yards from the enemy line, my horse dead and a bolt stuck clean through my thigh. The others had begun to follow me but they too rode into crossbow bolts. There were not many archers in support of our target infantry but then there were mayhap thirty horsemen, so even a few bolts made a big difference. It had been a poor and disorganised charge to begin with and the ground was so muddy the horses had difficulty keeping their feet. It did not take much to put an end to the charge I had begun. That is why our leader had not ordered us forward himself.”
“As the enemy infantry rushed to destroy our beleaguered cavalry my father appeared to protect me. I didn’t know it until someone told me afterwards but he had instantly detached and followed me with the aim of bringing me back. Cavalry don’t do well when they are stopped and mobbed by infantry; I watched as my father was pulled from his saddle and hacked to pieces.”
Fulk smiled bitterly. “The remaining cavalry regrouped and managed a proper charge; the infantry broke and ran. Someone hauled me from the field to the surgeon’s tent for treatment but no one would have anything to do with me after my stupidity. All I had left was my armour and the few bits and pieces in our tent; my father’s corpse was picked clean by looters. I didn’t even go to his funeral – I was in a deep fever because of my own wound. I nearly died.” Miserably he admitted, “Sometimes I wish I had.” Eleanor didn’t say anything; he glanced at her again and found she was looking at him with what might be sympathy.
From that he drew the nerve to finish, to recount the worst part. “Maude’s father was the first person I saw once the fever broke. He told me I was no longer welcome in his lands, the betrothal was cancelled and I was lucky he didn’t wring my neck. I knew then my future had died along with my father. I was just the penniless bastard of a minor knight with some outdated armour, no employment, no friends and a leg wound. The agreement with my father’s liege had not been finalised, and in any case I had proved myself to be undesirable as a vassal, so his fief would go to someone else. I couldn’t go home; it would mean telling everyone what I had done. I couldn’t bring myself to send a message to my mother, not even to tell her I was alive. She must believe me dead.”
“I decided I would go and earn my fortune, get my knighthood and then return for Maude. Once I had restored my fortunes I could contact my mother and she would be overjoyed to see how well I had done for myself. Everything would be alright as long as I could call myself Sir Fulk. Maude and I were betrothed; despite what he said her father would not break that contract. He would never force her to marry against her will, and she would wait for me. With my skills as a warrior and with my education it would be easy for me to find a place with a lord who had not heard of me, then I could soon prove myself to be a desirable vassal. Nothing could go wrong.”
“About two and a half weeks after the battle Maude turned up in my tent; she had come out to find me even though her father had forbidden it. She had heard about the battle, she was not happy but she needed me. Her father had arranged a marriage for her to one of the local landowners; her own judgment had proven so poor her father felt obliged to rescue the situation. Between the known fool and the unknown quantity she chose me. She begged me to save her, to stand on my rights and marry her before she was forced to marry this landowner.” Fulk swallowed, his throat suddenly parched. If he hadn’t lost Eleanor by now then this would be the proving point. It got no worse.
“I refused,” he admitted hoarsely. “I would not let her marry a penniless bastard. I said it was for the sake of her name,” Fulk’s head bowed, “It was for the sake of my own pride. I didn’t want to be overshadowed by her. Before I had not cared, but now I had nothing except my armour while she was the same.”
He looked up again and said urgently, “I truly did not believe she would marry, if I had things would have been different. I was too stuck in my own dream, too stubborn, too insistent on saving my pride. She did not ask again, if she had maybe I would have believed this new match was something other than a bluff.” He remembered the way she had crumpled, the way she had been so hopeless as she had left. He remembered his insistence that everything would be fine; she would not marry and he would be a knight, then he would come back for her. She had known he would not. She must have thought he didn’t want her any more, perhaps even going so far as to think he had been using her all along.
“I heard about the wedding four days later. I never had the courage to find out what had happened to her. She was supposed to be a virgin bride. I did not hear of any scandal surrounding the marriage, but ...” He let himself trail off, not needing to say more. The one person most likely to take exception to her unexpected experience would be the one best placed to make her life a living hell, the only one nearly guaranteed to find out. Her husband. Some women would have had found a credible excuse, but not Maude. Deception was out of the question too; she had never had a deceptive bone in her body. Maude would never think to get her husband so drunk he could barely remember getting married, let alone the fine detail, then splotch a bit of blood from a cut on the sheet.
“When I had healed enough I left in search of an employer; I ended up with Aidney. I have spent most of my life since then trying to become something worth the cost of saving, since the price has already been paid.” Until recently he’d not had much success.
There was a long silence; Fulk waited tensely for her to say something, anything. Eventually she spoke up, “All of this was eight years ago, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you still expect to behave like the boy you were?”
“I don’t want to risk repeating the same mistakes again.”
“If you never test yourself how can you know if you have learned control or not? Or would you rather always live in fear based on the suspicion that you might not have? Currently loving someone does rather appear to be the death knell of the relationship, assuming there is one there in the first place.” Eleanor cocked her head slightly, looking at him curiously. “So what do you plan to do now?”
That could be understood as an invitation; it certainly was not the disgust, abhorrence or rejection he had expected. Fulk was so relieved his worst fears had proven groundless that he felt giddy. He knew what he wanted to do - the same thing he had wanted to do the night before, and too many times to count before that. They would not get many opportunities like this, alone and safe even from Trempwick’s spying eyes. Oh sod it - why not? She was right; if he never tried he would never know and now she was warned. Surely one kiss couldn’t hurt, not if he watched himself, and Eleanor would be watching too. She was not Maude to stand there almost helplessly, not realising what was happening until it was already too late and they were both swept away by desire. No, she’d probably knee him in the groin if he so much as tweaked any part of her clothing.
He slid up on the bench and shifted the angle he was sitting at slightly so he was facing her. His left hand took hers and clasped it lightly. He sat looking at her for a bit, trying to decide on the best way to approach this. They had so little time every instant had to be special. He hopped to his feet, pulling her up as well. “Now, where were we?” he murmured. “Ah yes.” He stepped closer to her, one had on her waist and the other on the side of her face repeating their pose from the night before.
Once again he leaned down but this time he didn’t change his mind at the last instant; he kissed her delicately on the lips, testing at first but then with increasing confidence and passion. His hand slid from her cheek to the back of her head while the other went round to the small of her back, pulling her closer still. After a small delay Eleanor’s arms went around his neck and she leaned into his embrace.
Finally they broke for air. They stared at each other, rather stunned. Eleanor chewed her lower lip slightly, thinking. “Are you supposed to do that with your tongue?”
“Not according to the Pope. Didn’t you like it?”
“I am not quite sure … perhaps we could try again?” A pretext. She liked it; he was sure.
Fulk was only too happy to oblige.
A few minutes later he pushed Eleanor away from him slightly. “We should get back.” As much as he was enjoying himself Fulk was skating on the edge of seeing if she really would knee him in the groin if he tried something a bit more advanced. Better to err on the side of caution and stop now.
They returned separately, Eleanor by the garden gate, Fulk by the back wall and a long, circular walk back. He returned to the guest house fully half an hour after Eleanor. As far as the world was concerned they had parted ways as Eleanor entered the garden.
So there you go, Fulk’s story … or should I say the main part of it? He does have eight years of missing time, and seventeen years before this. If you’ve been gathering your hints and clues you will probably have guessed much of this already. It’s one of those subtle things, just like Trempwick hinting he might care for Nell. He’s been doing that since his first appearance with the hints getting steadily stronger as time passed.
Fulk's POV there is one of those very rare occasions where I'm painfully aware of being female and writing a male POV with not real clue of what I'm doing.. Yes, well I suppose it is safe enough to assume that at least one man out there is like that ...
Page 187 and they finally kissed
Avernite, how about "Gooseberry: An epic tale of a tetchy princess and her bodyguard"
Thanks, Maccavelli. I wouldn't mind seeing one either. I might see what I can put together in paintshop pro with my abysmal skills. If I get something other than a neon green blob I'll post it.
Nice thinking, Judas. Since her lands are dependant on not upsetting William just how long she will keep them remains a rather significant question.
Poor Nell, she really is embarassed by her badge already. If she heard some of this she'd be mortified. You don't want to make the princess cry, do you, King?
Say any of that to Fulk's face, The Arch Mede, and he'd punch your lights out. He'd then wait for you to wake up so he could tell you he's never had the pox, then he'd hit you again. He's nice like that