Fulk nursed his mug of wine in one hand, turning over the sealed letter with his other. The parchment was obviously cheap, and faint ghosts of text indicated it had been used not once but twice before, then sanded clean for reuse. The sealing wax was nothing more than plain candle wax drizzled on over the join, meanly done so the letter threatened to unfurl on its own accord. There was a telling lack of a seal’s imprint in the wax. Fulk smiled slightly; a mark would have boded ill – it would mean his mother had not replied to his message and someone else had, and that would probably mean the worst. He would have questioned the messenger but Simon had been the one to accept the letter, and the boy had sent the man on his way without anything more than the rest of the money Fulk had set aside to pay him.

Fulk turned the letter once more, examining the back side. He squinted at the writing, managing to decipher the odd word here and there of the second, less faded usage. The parchment had previously been a list of foodstuff brought and sold; the quantities were too great for it to belong to a single family, more suited to a tavern. So the parchment had not come from the one who had sent this letter, not unless his mother had set up business as an innkeeper. Given how much she liked people making a mess out of her nice, clean floors that was unlikely.

Fulk sipped his vernage, set the cup to one side and drew his dagger. He prised the seal open with the tip of the knife and set the letter back down unopened, taking his time to carefully clean shavings of wax off the blade with the hem of his tunic. Deliberately he unfolded the letter and read.

Edmund Reeve to Sir Fulk FitzWilliam, this day the eighth of February in the Year of Our Lord Thirteen-thirty-eight, dictated and taken down by father Thomas, village priest of Walton.

It’s my sad duty to tell you of the passing of your mother, my stepmother, some two years hence. She died peaceably and at good age, surrounded by her family. She was much loved by all of us, my father especially.

You’ll want to know what happened, so I’ll set it out. After a goodly period of time had passed since the news of your father’s, and your own, death arrived here my father, also Edmund Reeve, resumed his suit, being tired of his widower’s state and both of them honourably free. A while more passed, but before the year was out your mother and my father married, as they’d intended to do before your father claimed her for his own. No children were born of this marriage. The years they had together were happy and contented.

Fulk drained his cup and tossed the letter back onto his table. “Pack of lies,” he muttered darkly. His father had claimed no one, even if it’d been his right. Emma had loved her lord, and she wouldn’t have done that if he’d bulled in, reminded her she was his property and then snatched her planned future away from her like this Edmund chap claimed. Thinking back he remembered nothing untoward or special between his father’s reeve and his mother, nothing at all. He did remember this younger Edmund Reeve as a boy though; a few years his junior, a snivelling coward, a tattletale, a self righteous little oik, or so he’d thought.

Fulk’s hand dropped to his dagger hilt; he’d have to go home and see what was what, and while he was there he’d remind this Edmund Reeve that aside from her long dead parents and siblings who’d died as children Emma had only had two people as her family – himself and his father. His plans for a trip were stillborn; he might be able to beg a few days grace from his royal duties but he couldn’t leave Eleanor behind. She needed him, and he wasn’t too inclined to wander without her anyway. Next time he saw her, whenever that’s be, he’d ask her if they could go to Walton at their earliest chance.







Er, busy. You know the usual by now, so I’ll spare the repeat.

I ended up doing an essay for the other forum in reply to a comment; you may as well have a copy:

The bandits … ah yes, the bandits. If you read the whole thing over again, even without this new information in mind, the bandit thing makes more sense. As things are though you are needing to think, remember and compare things which happened half a year ago for readers to things which are happening now, things which looked honest to things were are admitted to be tricky. You also have the handicap of the uneven writing quality and style. So I’ll recap briefly and do a tiny bit of explaining.

Right back at the beginning, when Fulk first arrives at Woburn and the adult Nell/Trempy relationship is shown for the very first time, Nell is obedient and compliant, almost completely. She does as he says, and even when she does try to speak up for herself she is not very forceful and quickly subsides. If Trempy says jump she jumps, or at worst asks how high. She is quite the loner, though she will accept Trempy’s company well enough. Trempy is very much in charge.

Slowly this changes, thanks to Fulk. Fulk stands up for her, and gives her opportunities to assert herself a little. He shows her Trempy can be argued with a little. He reminds her of who she is. Fulk slowly gains her trust, liking and confidence, going from very grudgingly accepted follower to friend. And then this happens:
Eleanor moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue, “Actually, I would prefer he stayed. He was part of this mission, it is only right he sees how it is tied up.”
Trempwick reeled back as if she’d slapped him; he almost looked … hurt, as if he considered it a betrayal. It only lasted a half second; the spymaster stepped back from Fulk and gestured him to a stool with an elaborate, mocking bow, “Your seat awaits, bodyguard.”

She slowly begins to stand her ground. The more time passes the worse she gets, openly arguing, then defying Trempy. She begins to lie to him, keeping information back from him with the sole aim of controlling her own life. She begins to really fall for Fulk, and Fulk for her. Trempy knows, and he tries to carefully steer them apart. He fails, and can only watch as they keep on getting closer, and as Nell keeps on slipping out of his grasp. He does keep on trying to get things going his way, but it is not exactly working as well as he’d wish. As long as they are together they gravitate towards each other, and he cannot effectively put Nell back into her place without causing more trouble – Fulk would get upset and start complaining and/or stick up for her. Any effect Trempy has on her is temporary at best.

While Fulk is around it is hard for Trempy to make any headway in his attempt to win Nell’s heart. She loves someone else, and much of what Trempy is offering (kindness, companionship, someone to talk and joke with, care, concern, a boost to her self respect, reassurance, the assorted physical stuff) Fulk is also giving her (much of Trempy’s unique benefits come from the fact they are two of a kind, both agents and slightly apart from their world. He also does a more comprehensive line of protection than Fulk is able, and some assorted stuff based on the mentor/second father background they have). Even worse the more she does with Fulk the more she notices the unfortunate lack of natural chemistry between herself and Trempy; the whole “like comparing a simple rushlight to the noonday sun.” thingy Nell herself was mentally commenting on at one point. He knows she is not going to be happy with a simple rushlight when she could have the sun, and she will not give things a chance to grow into something brighter when she has an alternative.

Trempy also knows (thanks to his own poking about) Fulk has a history as a heartbreaker; Maude is especially worrying to our spymaster. Incidentally he knows what happened to Maude after her last meeting with Fulk (the one where he refused to marry her until he was a knight). Cicely (the girl from his home he used rather badly) is also a source of worry. He’s had other romances, but they were of a different sort with more experienced women. But Nell is far more a Cicely or Maude; innocent, rather naive, in love, not overly religious or prudish, and actually quite clueless as to what she is getting herself into. Based on past history Fulk is likely to take advantage if he can safely do so.

Then comes that day in the snow, the day Gerbert overheard some suspicious things and walked in on a Fulk who was still dressing after changing his clothes and a furiously blushing, dishevelled Nell. Knowing how they feel about each other, but not privy to the insider’s view of what they had been doing that the reader has, you have to admit it looks very bad indeed. Not only has his princess gotten out of hand but she is now dangerously close to flinging herself away one some idiot knight, if she has not already one so. Something which would place her in danger, make Trempy’s life more difficult later, take her further still out from under his control, and generally bugger things up something rotten.

Fulk has to go. Now. Trempy can’t act openly, nor can he confront Nell; to do either of those things would be to risk losing her. He has all of half a day to plan and set things in motion, a distracted half day which is mostly night time (with her right next to him, alert, tense and suspicious) anyway.

Was Trempy also distracted? Not saying Well, Nell’s presence was certainly distracting him a little Ahem, but away from that the frog is staying silent.

So the tiny, unforeseen happening that is Fulk swearing allegiance to Nell was the stone which caused a series of ripples in a calm pond. Fulk introduced many, many little factors scattered widely across both plot and characters, none of them really large or important alone, but taken as a whole …

This story really does benefit from re-reading once you know certain things. Go right back and you’ll see Trempy hinting he loves her with steadily increasing bluntness, assorted odd moods explained, comments with alternate meanings, little details suddenly picking up new significance, characters thinking things you know are wrong but previously believed (e.g. Nell thinking her mother must have suffered badly) and so on. All those pointless looking scenes have something in them or will have some use in the future, even if it’s just the one line.

“Love, fear, control of something or someone they care about; those are the three main ways to gain control over a person. Pick a person apart to see how they work, then apply that proverb and they are yours.” – Raoul Trempwick to his king, 295 pages ago.