Chapter Five

             Hans was not a fretful man. He did not scare easily, and he certainly was not a coward. However, standing outside the door of the town Earl’s personal chamber, with the news he was about to bring weighing heavily on his shoulders, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat unsettled.

            He had been traveling for many days and nights, and in truth he was exhausted to the point where he would have slept with the pigs in their sty for merely a wink of sleep. He had been trained well, though, and he concealed his weariness with ease. Having had a commander as a father, he’d been brought up to never reveal his weaknesses, no matter the strain it put on him.

            “The Earl is ready for you now, Sir,” a male voice stated unemotionally. Hans whirled around and saw a young man a few years inferior to his own age standing in the shadows of the corridor. Squinting his experienced eyes, he could only just make out the mousy brown hair falling over the boy’s brow. Extending an arm towards the heavy oak door, the young man nodded his head and Hans took a cautious step forward.

            Rapid as a gunshot, the boy’s hand was clutched tightly on Hans’ shoulder. Raising a wary eye toward him, Hans grunted and tried to shrug himself free, but the lad’s grip was firm. “The Earl is an old man,” he said sternly, his unblinking eyes never departing from Hans’ face. “He is sick. You must not pressure him. Do you understand?”

            Studying his face carefully, Hans concluded that the Earl was much more than just an employer to this man. Resting his own hand on the young man’s shoulder, he replied, “I will see that your master is free from harm. Do not bother yourself.” The door slammed shut behind him.

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

            The old man was standing by the window, gazing out onto the streets below, watching intently each individual’s movements. Some were hurried, others walked leisurely, but deep down, all were tense. Every citizen of Little Wenham had been continuing life as usual, only now they had their fingers crossed behind their backs.

            “Ahem.” The Earl smiled to himself; this man was impatient, and wanted to be noticed. He had a feeling that this particular knight didn’t often walk into a room without all heads turning.

            Turning slowly in place, the Earl had to squint in the dimly lit room in order to see the man standing in the shadows by the door. The knight was indeed a handsome man, although he appeared a bit arrogant, the way he crossed his arms across his chest and stuck his chin out into the dry air.

            “Please, have a seat,” the old man wheezed, gesturing towards a vacant chair facing his grand desk. Seating himself, the Earl stared intently at the strange man sitting across from him. “I hear you bring news of the war.” Walter De Bolbec let out a rasping cough. “I do pray it be good.”

            Hans suddenly could not bear to look at the weary gentleman, and lowered his eyes to the floor. “Well, not entirely,” he confessed. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “The House of Lancaster requests men to be drafted into the English army.” He paused for a moment, stealing a glance at the Earl’s face, which appeared to be impassive. “Sir… you are our last hope.”

            The Earl seemed to be thinking quite hard. His brow was furrowed and his index finger rested against his temple. “How many men?” he asked, his voice nothing but a whisper.

            Hans shrugged nervously. “It is impossible to judge the exact �"”

            “How many men do you need, good sir?” the Earl demanded, raising his stern voice and leaning forward as if to seem to be intimidating.

            The young knight sighed. “All those who are physically able to fight, Sir.”

            “I see,” the old man said softly, rubbing his drained eyes. Finally he looked up at Hans, the tears threatening to fall down his wrinkled cheeks and into his snowy white beard. “Well then, we shall enlist them in the morning. In the meantime, I will see to it that you receive a room at the inn across town. Good day, Sir.”

 

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

            The sunlight streamed down upon his handsome face as Hans pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped out onto the cobblestone street of Little Wenham. He felt downright rotten for asking such a thing of the Earl, but he had no choice. The Lancaster army was depleting, and if they were to win this war, they would need all the help they could get.

            “Sir?” a small voice asked politely. Hans looked to his left and was shocked to see the woman he’d run into upon arriving. “May I have a word, Sir?” she asked curiously. Before he even had time to open his mouth, she had walked over to a stack of hay and was patting the spot beside her.

            Taking the seat next to her, he smiled and said, “How is your dear sister, Countess Isolde?”

            Jane blushed furiously, and used her hand to fan her face. “It’s dreadfully hot out here, isn’t it?” He continued to smile at her knowingly, and Jane’s face grew red. “Are you completely unaware that it is considered rude and impolite to stare?!”

            “My dear, you have no sister. Did you think I could not see your tattered clothing and filthy face?”

            At a loss for words, Jane opened and closed her mouth several times before replying furiously, “Very well. Countess Isolde be no sister of mine.” She sighed, slumping her shoulders in defeat. “I am employed by the Earl Walter De Bolbec.”

            “Why would you lie to me?” Hans asked quizzically.

            Jane looked into his deep gray eyes, searching. “Surely even you wouldn't think it wise to reveal such information to a stranger?”

            Hans chuckled softly. “Nay, I suppose not.” Jane turned her head and looked out across the marketplace, the wind pulling softly at her hair, the sun illuminating her beautiful face, a slight upward curve placed on her full lips. Hans had to admire such a woman; she was intelligent, as well as brave. Her plainness seemed to make her all the more attractive. For once he was not diverted by good looks.

            “The war has begun, has it not?” she asked softly, lowering her voice as several townspeople walked by.

            “Aye.” Hans grinned at her. “Milady, what was it you wanted to ask of me?”

            Jane’s mood suddenly became morose. She looked down at her hands, playing again with the folds of her skirt. Tears sparkled in her bright eyes. “You’re going to take them, aren’t you? You are recruiting more men.” She turned to face him.

            Hans’ face fully showed his shock, and he made no attempt to mask it. “Perhaps.” He regained his haughty composure quickly. “Why, are you fearful of losing a lover?” he teased.

            Jane all but laughed aloud. “Nay, and I don’t suspect I shall ever have one. But… the village will most likely fall without our men.”

            “Then you and your village have my most humble apologies. Regrettably, there is not much I can do about it. I am truly sorry, Milady. If there were any other way �"”

            “Well, there isn’t, is there? So we must not fret over things we cannot change.” Crossing her arms over her chest, Jane turned away from him.

            “I can see that you wish to be alone. But may I make one last request?” Hans whispered, resting a hand gently on her shoulder.

            Without so much as flinching, Jane replied, “And what might that be?”

            “The honor of knowing thy fair lady’s name?” he said hopefully.

            Whirling around in a rage, Jane wrenched his hand from her shoulder and stood, fuming. “You have no business in knowing my identity! Have you not taken enough from me, from my people? Even in our gravest hour, you can only think of yourself! I'm simply another maiden you expect to bow to you and kiss your feet, is that it?!”

            “My apologies, Milady, I simply �"”

            “Jane!” A woman was hurrying across the town square, her skirts billowing out behind her, dust being kicked up into the air by her quick feet. “Jane!” she gasped, resting a hand on Jane’s shoulder.

            Jane growled, shooting a venomous look at Hans. “What is it, Isabella?”

            “The Earl only just told me! All able-bodied men are to be enlisted at dawn!” Noticing they were not alone, Isabella blushed and curtsied to Hans. “Good day, Milord.”

            “Good day, Milady. I am Sir Hans, the knight who has come to recruit your men.” He spoke haughtily, standing and bowing before Isabella, who began to stammer uncontrollably.

            “A-an honor, Sir Hans. I am L-lady Isabella, and this be Mistress Jane.” Jane folded her arms irritably across her chest.

            “We’ve met,” she responded through clenched teeth.

            Hans nodded. “So we have.” He reached out and kissed Isabella’s hand gracefully, and Jane rolled her eyes in annoyance as her friend giggled childishly. “Well, as much as I would enjoy such beautiful ladies’ company, I am afraid I must rest. I pray we shall meet again, Mistress Jane and Lady Isabella,” he said seductively, winking at Jane. As he brushed past Jane, he whispered in her ear, “If that is your real name.”

            When he was out of earshot, and but a speck in the distance, Isabella let out an earsplitting screech. “Ooh! Isn’t ‘e absolutely lovely!” she cried.   

            “Ugh!” Jane growled in exasperation. Grabbing Isabella by the wrist, she pulled her back to their quarters, where they began to prepare for their mutton stew supper, Hans’ words never leaving Jane’s mind.

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

            Shortly after the dinner had been served, and the plates and eating utensils had been cleaned and stored away, Jane and Isabella bid the gentlemen goodnight and raced up to their quarters, where they stripped of their grimy rags and slipped into the nicest clothing they owned �" their nightshirts. The Earl would often go on long trips, to other towns much like Little Wenham, to discuss important matters with neighboring villages. Frequently, he would return with gifts for Jane, Isabella, and Geoffrey. Jane remembered the time well when he brought back two warm, cotton nightgowns. She and Isabella had slept in them ever since.

            “It’s become frightfully cold out, 'asn’t it?” Isabella commented, standing and shutting the only window in the small room. Jane nodded, sitting with her legs crossed on her tiny bed. Isabella hopped onto her own bed, stationed directly across from Jane’s.

            Their quarters were about the size of a large closet, and became quite drafty during the autumn and winter seasons. The floorboards squeaked something awful, the tree outside their window scraped against the glass on windy nights, often keeping them awake for hours, and due to lack of light, the small space was always filled with shadows stretching along the walls and ceiling. They certainly weren’t living like royalty, but it was their home, and to Jane, it was the one place in the world where she felt she belonged.

            “So, the men will enlist in the morning, and I expect they shall be leaving before dawn next day.” Isabella sighed, idly playing with her long, slender toes. “Do you suppose Geoffrey will be going with them?”

            Jane started, her eyes snapping to Isabella’s peculiarly calm face. “I hadn’t thought of that… but I don’t see why he wouldn’t.”

            Again, the small girl sighed. “I’m going to miss him something awful when ‘e leaves. And you as well, Jane!”

            Jane frowned. “I am truly sorry, dearest Isabella. But you must understand -”

            Isabella lowered her bottom lip and began to pout, feeling deeply saddened. “You’re right, Jane. Oh, how dreadful it must be to fight in the war!” She sighed, her shoulders drooping and her long blonde hair curling around her petite waist. “Jane… I’ve been pondering over you entering the King’s army.” She looked up at Jane, her eyes shining with fresh tears. “I… I just don’t see how it’s going to work. Perhaps ‘tis not such a brilliant idea after all…”

            A peculiar emotion flashed through Jane’s eyes, passing too fast for Isabella to notice, and with a small leap Jane was off the bed and beside a chest filled with her personal belongings, riffling through it feverishly.

            “Jane, what are ye doing?” Isabella asked, leaning over curiously, trying to steal a glance behind Jane’s back.

            “Here!” Jane cried, waving several papers over her head excitedly. She smiled and handed them to Isabella, plopping down beside her as Isabella began to read.

            “Your father’s conscription papers?” Isabella looked up at Jane, thoroughly confused. “What are you getting at?” she asked hesitantly, arching an eyebrow.

            “Oh, Izzy, this is too good to be true! I can use my father’s papers to get into the army! No one will ever know the difference! Well... except you, of course.” Jane was grinning ear to ear, her voice shaking with excitement as she rambled on. “Once I make it into the army, I can finally avenge my father! I can live the life I’ve always dreamed of! No longer will I be stuck here, feeding chickens!” Jane snatched the papers out of her friend’s hands and began dancing around the small room with them, clutching them tightly to her chest.

            “Have you gone completely daft?! Jane, there’s just one problem with your brilliant idea �" it’s rubbish! For one thing, you’re not a man �"“

            “We’ll make me one!” Jane exclaimed, sitting herself beside Isabella once again and grasping her hands tightly. “You can cut my hair, and we’ll borrow some clothing from Geoffrey! I can wrap cloth around myself to hide my breasts, and �"“

            “Nay! Your father may have been a fantastic swordsman, but you’re not! You’ll be killed, Jane! I won’t send you to your death,” Isabella sobbed, fat little tears streaming down her freckled cheeks.

            “But I’ve got to try! This is my only chance, this must be the path that God wants me to -"

            “If it were God’s will, he would have made you a bloody man!” Isabella screamed, nearly hysterical, her face inches from Jane’s.

            “Look,” Jane whispered, cupping Isabella’s wet face in her trembling hands. “I know you’re scared. Truthfully, I am as well. But I dearly believe that this is my destiny. I’m miserable here, Izzy! I need something more in my life. And I’m as good with a sword as any soldier. You know it!” Jane said fiercely as Isabella began to shake her head.

            “Jane, ye've never killed anyone! You 'ave never even fought with another man! Ye've only sparred with your father, and that was ages ago!” Isabella was gasping for air as the tears fell down her cheeks and into the corners of her mouth. “'Tis bad enough Geoffrey’s leaving, but now you, too?” Unable to contain herself a moment longer, Isabella burst out with a mournful wail, and buried her face in Jane’s shoulder.

            “There, there, dear. It’s all right.” Jane grabbed a handful of Isabella’s lengthy blonde hair in her hands, patting her back every now and again, reassuring her that everything would work out just fine. Eventually, Isabella choked back her last sob and wiped her tear-streaked face, sitting up and gazing into her companion’s eyes.

            “I know how much you want this,” she whispered, her moist eyes twinkling. She heaved a great sigh. “All right. I shall help ye. On one other condition.”

            Jane raised an eyebrow. “Aye?”

            “Promise me that you and Geoffrey will stick together? And if things get too dangerous, you’ll come home?” Isabella whimpered.

            Jane smiled sadly. “You know I would never let anything happen to Geoffrey. But I’m not going to leave at the first sign of trouble. I’m going ‘til the end.”

            Wrapping her arms lovingly around Jane’s neck, Isabella whispered in her ear, “I’m so proud of you, Jane. Your father would be, too.”

Reviews

[Tania Leigh]

Your hard work shines through in this chapter, as with the previous chapters. You've kept a good pace and have an excellent ratio of narration to dialogue....I think stories are more interesting when the author allows dialogue to carry much of it....you've done a great job with that.

Part of me cheers for Jane, knowing her passion for avenging her father, but another part fears for her safety. That could only mean one thing....that you have caused me to become attached to your character. That is extremely essential for an author to do.

Great chapter, Leia!

[Lea Jane]

Sorry it's so long, guys! I've been working very hard on it, though. Enjoy! (Constructive criticism welcome) :]