Chapter Text
Eventually, as he knows it must, the exultation of victory wears off. By then, William’s father has joined his son and his friends on the sands of the pitch for a strong hug. William winces, and it’s fortunate that his father can’t see the way he pales, or how he staggers a moment later. But his friends are there to catch him.
A gesture brings a servant over. “Have Sir William seen to guest quarters, along with his father and his retainers, and send for a surgeon to attend him.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The young man races off to gather others for the task.
He turns to the young maid, watching her mistress on the field. “Maid.”
She dips him a curtsy. “Majesty.”
“Tell your mistress, the Lady Jocelyn, that I would have speech with her and her father at evening meal. I will send a messenger with you to fetch him.” A Royal Messenger will add more weight to the summons than a daughter’s word.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The maid nods, then stands and makes her way, with rather more dignity than her mistress, to the sands.
Two servants arrive to escort the group to the Palace, at almost the same time that Lady Jocelyn’s maid reaches her with the message. The young woman looks visibly torn between obedience and attending her lover, but William says something in a low voice, and she nods and follows her maid to where a Royal Messenger awaits respectfully.
He does not miss the small bow of respect she gives him. Nor the way her eyes follow William as he makes his way out of the lists. That is all to the good. Obedience to the crown, and loyalty to her lord, a good combination. Sir William’s loyalty is in the process of being secured, and he rather thinks the young knight’s lady will help rather than hinder his cause.
He waits until the field is cleared, then stands to lead his lady from the stands, signaling the dismissal of the crowds. By his own instructions earlier in the day, the feast and awards will be the following day. It should have been this day, if not for Adhemar’s underhanded tactics, but he rather expects that the unexpected drama of this day will make up for the delay in the people’s eyes. Peasants and nobles alike will have enough to gossip about, and if he has his way, the feast will give them still more. In fact, if he has his way, court and kingdom alike will have enough gossip to feast on until Midwinter Festival.
He elects to take supper in his private dining chamber, with his Lady to balance Lady Jocelyn’s presence. There are proprieties to be considered, after all. And though he admires Jocelyn’s outspoken nature, this negotiation is not the time and place for it. His Lady will serve as a visible reminder of the decorum appropriate to a noble lady in the presence of the lords of her household. And in matters of discussion such as this.
Jocelyn and her father are ushered in just as the table is set. Both of them offer him the courtesy due his station and his position as host, and he takes the opportunity to measure the lord.
Thin, like his daughter, and possessed of the same black hair, though less elegantly styled, and cut short. A bit swarthy. He dresses well, but there are subtle signs in the cut and fabric of his clothing that indicates a man who wishes to have others know the value of his coffers and his position.
Good. A man who values status and money is one he can manage in the negotiations he intends.
They take their seats. Small talk occupies the table during the course of the meal, as it should. It is only after the final dishes have been cleared that he decides to broach the matter he truly wishes to discuss. “I trust you follow the joust?”
“Who does not, Majesty?” The older man nods.
“Then you have knowledge of the young man who won today’s bout, and my tournament?”
“Indeed. There are not many who do not know of him. Formerly styled Lord Ulrich von Lichtenstein. It was a surprise to hear that he was in fact a peasant. Even more so that he rode today, despite that, and under the title of Sir William.” There is a question there, though this man is too subtle to ask it outright. Wise.
“Indeed. The claim against his blood was dis-proven.”
“Was it? I had not heard...”
“It is not yet common knowledge.” Not among noble circles at least. Adhemar would never spread it, and few among his court or any other would listen to the rumblings of the peasant class.
“Might I inquire as to the details, Your Majesty?”
“Indeed you may, as it concerns why I have asked you here.” He signals for one of his squires to bring the documents he has prepared. “It has been a personal project of mine to research the royal lineage of my own family, and those of the past lines. Many have fallen into obscurity.” He does not go into more detail, and it is not as if this man needs to know it. “As it happens, young William’s bearing and character, not to mention his form and face, have linked him to one of these lines. My historians have been researching it, and discovered the connection to the Thatcher’s line only recently.”
He hands over the genealogical documents to the older lord. “I had intended to announce it following the tournament, until the incident with Count Adhemar.” The inflection he lays on the Count’s name leaves no question that the man is disgraced in his eyes.
The lord’s eyes flick over the papers. “The boy is...”
“He is blood royal. It is diluted by some generations, but it runs true. True enough for a boy raised a peasant to hold his own on the field of honor, and in the court.”
“Then his deception...”
“Foolish, but one supposes that without the resources of a noble birthright, he would consider it necessary. Indeed, I find it quite impressive, that he should challenge his apparently humble beginnings to reach for the position that his blood affords him.”
“It is...most unusual.” There is no clear commitment in the man’s voice.
“So it is.” He leans back, projecting the casual power that is his own birthright. “I have reviewed his conduct, within and without the lists, and it pleases me. As such, it is my inclination to restore to him some of the privileges and position that his blood earns him, since his honor has has proved worthy of them.”
“That is most generous, Your Majesty. Might I ask what this would entail?”
“I shall reinstate the line, with young Sir William as it’s Lord, and his father in honorable retirement, for his own health. It shall be settled as a cadet line to my own, under the care of the crown, until Sir William has had a chance to properly establish his household and take up his duties. He has already servants who will serve him well, but there are titles and lands that I would have him resume.” There are always a few lordships whose holders have died out, lands without a master under the auspices of the crown, or under the tentative care of a nearby lord.
“That seems a worthy goal. And a well-thought test of his abilities outside the lists.”
“Quite. However, there is one other matter I thought to arrange. As his royal...cousin, if you will, and his lord until such time as he comes into his own...I had thought to arrange an appropriate match for him. I would not have him shame me or his new status before the court, and it is in my mind that a wife of suitable lineage and breeding would do him much good.” He smiles, glad to finally get to the heart of the matter.
Jocelyn smiles, head down to hide it. Her father looks startled, as though he never imagined this outcome. “Your Majesty...are you...might I ask you to confirm your intentions?” He bows his head with the audacity of that statement, but does not withdraw it. Clearly he is the source of at least some of his daughter’s outspoken strength.
“It has come to my attention that young William favors your daughter. And if rumors are true, that the young lady is not adverse to his suit. Rumor has it she has already manged to educate him in some matters of the noble life. Given that, if their attachment be genuine, it would seem to me a fitting match.”
Jocelyn’s father wastes no time turning to his daughter. “Jocelyn?”
“His Highness speaks true. That was the reason for my errands yesterday and today. It was requested that I bring Sir William’s father to the arena to witness his son’s prowess in the lists. I had not spoken of it, knowing your negotiations with Count Adhemar, but in truth I consider Sir William to be a far better match in both manners and appearance.” Her manner is submissive, obedient, but the fire in her eyes is not.
“And I shall see him with a title and means to fit his station.” He wastes no time in interjecting the words.
Jocelyn’s father wavers, and though he is impatient for the matter to be resolved, he is also somewhat pleased. Loyalty to one’s word, even if it is not yet set in stone, is a good quality.
Finally though, he yields. “If it is your will and my daughter’s, Your Majesty, then I will not stand against this match. I only ask that you insure that young Lord Thatcher maintains his worthiness for my daughter’s hand.”
“I doubt I shall have much to say in the matter.” He doubts he’ll need to say anything to William anyway. “However, if it sets your mind at ease, your daughter shall have a place in my Lady’s court if ever she needs the refuge.”
“Thank you. Shall I send the negotiations of the marriage contract and the bride price to you, or to young Lord William, Majesty?”
“To me, that I may see that they are suitable conditions for my new kinsman.” He smiles, sharp-edged, knowing that both of them will read the words he didn’t speak aloud in his expression.
He will not have William’s new father-in-law attempting to shame the young man, nor attempting to subvert his loyalty to the crown through loyalty or debt.
“Of course.” Jocelyn’s father bows. “If it please you, Highness, I would take my leave to gather the necessary documents for your inspection.”
He nods in dismissal to both, with only one final command. “Sir William is being housed and treated in the guest wing. It would do him good, I think, to have a short visit from his new betrothed.” And it would do him good to hear the news from Jocelyn herself.
The courtiers leave, and he and his lady retire. It is some time before he finds sleep, however.
Tomorrow, he will announce William as Sir William Thatcher, and name him a lord. Not a Duke, that would be too high to set a young man unproven beyond the lists. But he might manage Viscount. Noble enough to support his assertion of the boy’s royal blood, while a low enough rank to ease the mutterings of discontent.
Or perhaps he will elevate him one further. To the rank of Count. It amuses him, the concept of putting William and Adhemar on equal footing within the court. Adhemar has been proven dishonorable in the lists, and yet still bested. Perhaps he will punish Adhemar and complete his fall by elevating his opponent to the rank he has so recently disgraced.
That suits him, and he makes a note to have the paperwork drawn up and sent to his father for approval. Better yet, he will have it drawn up, and then seek audience with the king when it is prepared. He knows it will be granted. Quite aside from his status as heir, his father has surely heard stories of his activities these last days, and he will want an explanation.
He doesn’t worry about securing his father’s approval. He has already gained a reputation for himself as a soldier and tactician. Besides, he has excellent reasons, reasons he is sure his father will listen to.
To elevate a Thatcher so will gain much of the loyalty and love of the common folk. This prevents rebellions from happening, and hope yields more willing workers. Moreover, the strength William displayed is not to be ignored. Such a force, serving among the knights…he’s heard rumors that the young man is a splendid swordsman as well, that he took the tournament in Rouen in the sword. If that be true, then he is truly an asset, a warrior born. Especially given that he taught himself everything he knows, trained on his own without the aid of noble privilege.
There’s also the matter of his armor, and his most unconventional smith. There is something about that armor that intrigues him, and he looks forward to having a long discussion with William and his smith about it. It will have to wait until the armor is repaired and the knight recovered, but that is fine. It will give him time to settle the young man into the court. But if he’s right in his suspicions, then William will bring him an asset worth a king’s ransom on the battlefield, in the form of his girl-smith and her work.
He’s looking forward to bringing young Thatcher into his court. If nothing else, it promises to be most interesting.
He has a feeling though, that it’s going to be much more than that.