Chapter Five

After court, the Duke holds, "Study Hall," with the knights and their pages in the

extensive gallery. Long wooden tables and benches used during supper seated the considerable

retinue. A pulpit was placed in the middle of the room with a bible already opened to a passage.

This bible was translated into the vernacular since no one could decipher Latin.

One by one, the men read a passage in English, sharing our interpretation to the crowd

and waiting for the Duke to agree or disagree like a teacher at school.

My passage was simple, and the meaning behind the words was clear. Others had

problems with reading and comprehending the verses, making the lecture last longer when Bryce

had to explain and simplify things.

With the current speaker droning on about "turning the other cheek," I sneak behind the

wall of men, laying down on the bench, closing my eyes. The words spoken in the background

was like a Valium, and my tiredness takes over.

My mind drifts with the images of Braxius and Brixtius appearing, both men handsome

and smiling at me. "I'm sorry," I tell them, yearning for their loving touch.

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"You cannot change fate, Jessa," Braxius states, my Trojan husband's patient grin never

waning.

"I miss you. Both of you," the words are choking in the back of my throat, and tears are

prickling the sides of my eyes.

"We will always be with you because our love is strong. Thank you for saving my

daughter," Brixtius beams, and both figures disappear. Please! Don't leave me!

"...finish your chores. Dismissed!" Bryce's voice snaps me to full awareness. I sit up, the

muscles in my back are tight from laying on the hard surface for too long. Must have been out for

a few hours!

Remnants of the dream saturate me with sadness and loneliness as I stand to leave the

room to collect the Duke's clean clothes from the outside. The monotonous chore of removing

the dried outfits and placing them into a sack calms my thoughts and helps clear my head. I'm

grateful that I was allowed to see my guys.

The sun started descending into the west, and my stomach rumbles from lack of food. I

cannot wait for supper!

I carry the bundle of dry laundry to the Duke's bedroom and carefully fold each linen

piece, placing the items in their designated chests. The clean scent of soap reminds me that I

need to bathe since I do not have extra clothes, and I'm beginning to stink. Dammit!

During my week here, I've been able to wander outside the gates. There's a river not too

far away from the castle walls, and I make my way to the river's edge, finding a perfect hiding

spot in the trees lining the river bed.

I retrieve a small piece of stolen soap, protected in my waistband, from when I was

washing the Duke's clothing, and I walk into the cold river, fully clothed, while analyzing the

river's depth. The current was gentle, with no need to fear in being swept away. About a quarter

of the way in, the water covers my upper body. I quickly shed my clothing, and one by one was

washing everything.

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While still in the chilly water, I swim closer to the shore to wring out the excess water

and throw the clean clothes on a nearby tree branch to dry. The sun is still intense, and the

clothing should dry within an hour or so. If not, I will have to walk around in the damp itchy

fabric. Perhaps I should ask the Duke for another pair of clothes?

My body is fully divested of the substantial wardrobe and has adjusted to the river's

temperature. I relax in the water, using the soap to wash the grime out of my hair and off my

skin. I float for a while, the quiet serenity of the place, and the bright sky mesmerizes me. Much

better! I glance at the bank, studying the drying clothes, and determined that the cloth is dry

"enough" to wear.

I trudge out of the water, the warm air caressing my skin, causing goosebumps to rise. I

slip on a few stones covered in moss while attempting to hide my nakedness in the dense brush. I

grab the clean linen for binding my breasts, and I tightly re-wrap myself. The linen is still damp

but not too uncomfortable. Next are my hose and tunic. Each piece is still wet, clinging to my

body, and I run my fingers through my short hair, which needs combing. Another luxury I do not

have with me.

I kept my leather shoes on in the river, figuring the leather will dry by the time I reach the

castle. My feet squish as I take my time leaving the riverbank, dawdling as much as possible to

dry in the dying sunlight before reaching the Duke's rooms. My clothes are almost dry as I enter

the chamber.

"Where have you been!?" Bryce demands.

"Taking a bath and cleaning my only set of clothes," I retort, forgetting myself. I was in a

somewhat positive mood from feeling cleaned and refreshed. But for the time it took for the

cloth to dry and all the chafing from the wet wool in all the wrong places, the good mood was

now gone.

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My hair was a jumble of knots, and I was going to find a brush. But now, I had to contend

with a moody Duke! Clarissa must have given him shit after our lecture hall. It was the only

explanation of why the Duke is now Mr. Grumpy-pants.

"You have only one set of clothes?" The Duke questions me in disbelief. Exasperated, I

sigh loudly, wondering how such an intelligent man can miss the fact that I hadn't change my

clothes in a week?

"Go to Sir Hubert and tell him I bid him to give you extra sets of clothes. On your way,

tell the kitchen staff to make ready my bath. Go!" I scurry out of the room, stopping in the

kitchens to convey the Duke's message. I arrive at Sir Hubert's office, finding the older man

scribbling on parchment.

"Yes, boy. What is it?" The older man asks, not bothering to glance up from his work.

"The Duke bids that you give me extra sets of clothing," I inform him sheepishly. "His

words, not mine."

"Hmmph," Sir Hubert responds as he puts down his quill. Reaching behind him, he pulls

a full brown sack that was hidden in the room's shadows. "Take this. Clean the contents.

Goodbye," dismissing me without a glance.

"Thank you, Sir Hubert," taking the sack, and I head to the place where I earlier scrubbed

the Duke's laundry.

Inside the sack were tunics and hose that had not been washed in a very long time. The

scent that hits my nostrils was more than sweat, and I do not want to contemplate too long on the

other fragrances that were mixed in with last wearer's body odor. Beggars can't be choosers.

I make short work of cleaning the clothes and placing them on the linen line. All I care

about is that the bad smells are no longer present. I rush back to the Duke's rooms, knocking on

the door leading into his bedroom.

"Enter."

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I walk in, and in the center of the room was a large, metal tub filled with steaming water.

"Ah. You're back," Bryce states dryly, the sarcasm not lost on me.

"Sorry, my lord. I had to clean my new clothes. They were filthy." I tell him demurely,

hoping my excuse was satisfactory enough for him.

"Drop a handful of petals in the tub," Bryce points to a bowl filled with fresh flower

clippings sitting on the bed while ignoring my explanation. I do as he commands, placing the pot

back when I am done. "Come, Page. Undress me." I had gotten so used to dressing and

undressing Bryce throughout the week that I was no longer fazed by his nakedness. But damn the

man is fine!

He steps into the tub and sits down. He has to draw his knees into his chest to fit his

massive body. "Well? What are you waiting for, boy? Start scrubbing." I roll my eyes, hoping

this will be a quick bath for him. The sun was almost set, and I was hungry!

I make short work of the Duke's bath, using the empty pitcher to wash his hair. I then

grab a brush, untangling his brown tresses until all the knots were gone. I quickly run the brush

through my hair, smoothing it out before Bryce could notice.

The supper horn blows as the Duke steps out of the tub, and I wrap a generous linen sheet

around him to help him dry. I hold up the clean tunic and pants, helping him dress, and we head

down to the hall to finally eat. Sundays suck!

The upcoming week was busy with preparations to travel to London for the tourney. As

the Duke's page, it was my duty to ensure that his armor, swords, and horse tack used in the

tournament were well oiled and shined like the stars.

I also had to pack the Duke's garments for the multiple royal banquets, retrieving newly

made costumes from the seamstress. This includes new livery uniforms for me because guess

who will be serving the Duke at the feasts? Yep. This guy.

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When I wasn't performing my page duties, I was practicing on the long-bow or sword. I

was making progress on the bow because I was able to hit the target -once. But it was a

tremendous improvement!

Two nights before we depart, Bryce and Clarissa had another spat. This time, however,

she was throwing things at him. "You want me to stay here while you go whore around in

London!" She screeches while the sound of a jug smashes against the wall could be heard in the

office. The door to the bedroom was shut, but I can still hear everything being said.

"This was the agreed arrangement, Clarissa," Bryce tells her stoically. "If you don't like it.

Leave. I'm tired of your tantrums." The door bangs open, startling me as Bryce stalks past me,

leaving the bedroom.

"I'm traveling tonight and will never be coming back!" She screams at Bryce's retreating

backside, brushing past me to head to her room. Good!

I follow the Duke down to the training yard, where he grabs a bow. The sun is about an

hour from setting, giving enough light for the Duke to take a few practice shots at a target with

the long-bow.

I watch, fascinated by the strength this man had. He keeps firing at the target, turning it

into a pincushion. After he lets loose the last available arrow at the wooden target, I grab the

empty quiver, and I was rushing down the firing line. I pull the embedded arrows free from the

target and place them into the quiver. It takes me a while because some bolts were harder to pull

out than others.

I return to the waiting Duke, and he performs the whole feat again. I can tell Bryce is

beginning to tire because sweat is forming on his brow, and his aim is wavering. But still, I do

not want to be on the receiving end of his arrows.

After Bryce fires the last bolt, I go and retrieve them. I turn back from the target; the

Duke had left the training yard, his figure walking back inside. The sun had set, the light was

fading, meaning it was soon time to eat!

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Clarissa did heed her threat and left while Bryce was taking his frustrations out on the

archery target. He appeared relieved when a house servant informed him while he was sitting for

supper. I guess he did not love her. I wonder what kind of woman a man like him needs? Nope.

Not going to become involved with another look-alike!

I cannot deny that there is something unique about this descendant because Bryce

Plantagenet is inquisitive and fair-minded. And I do enjoy our philosophical debates; his eyes

shine with mirth when he goads me into a frustrating argument. I think he relishes my stubborn

refusal to submit to his way of thinking.

I do feel a physical attraction for him. I can't help it since he is an identical twin to my

two previous lovers, and I see him naked every day! The man is pure muscle and steel. A body

Michelangelo would have loved to use as a model for his marble statues. Too bad the famous

sculpture isn't born yet!

But I cannot lose my heart again because it hurts too goddamn much! And I must keep

my secret to complete whatever mission the fairies have sent me here to do. I stand and wait to

serve the Duke, reflecting on my last two trips through time.

I saved Braxius from certain death by Achilles, becoming the progenitor for Brixtius. I

was able to save Brixtius's daughter, Eurydice, by having her sent away to live in Rome before

Vesuvius blew. She had to have children since I was watching the current descendant, eating and

making merry with his men. That's new?

There was a complete turn around in Bryce's attitude tonight because the Duke NEVER

smiled at dinner, and he never joked with his retainers. The knights were also unsure of the

Duke's behavior and were cautious with their playful replies. All too afraid of one wrong thing

said would land them on shit duty. I guess Clarissa was his nonstop party pooper. Poor man!

"Page!" He waves me over.

I take a giant step forward, "Yes, my lord."

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"Sit," he pats the empty seat next to him. I do as he bids, not too sure how to handle

"happy Bryce," and I don't want to ruin his and my evening. One of the servants places a

steaming trencher of mutton stew in front of me. I eagerly grab my spoon, impatiently thrusting

the zesty goodness into my mouth! Martin is a miracle worker!

I learned on my second night here that a trencher was a thick, flat piece of bread used as a

bowl and eaten after the sauce of the stew softens the food. Also, there were only three utensils

used in Medieval England: spoon, dagger, and my fingers. Forks had not yet made their way

from the Middle East.

I eat, listening to the newfound entertainment in the hall. The Duke commands one of his

men to sing the bards' tales that the knight studied on his travels.

The knight begins with the tragic story of "Tristan and Isolde," the Medieval version of

"Romeo and Juliet." And-Holy Shit! The knight's voice would give Josh Groban a run for his

money!

The soulful voice echoing around us mixed with the sad song brings tears to my eyes.

Love found and fatefully lost due to miscommunication. I glance around, and I see no dry eyes in

the room! Who says knights don't cry!?

The next song was merrier, although bloodier. The Tales of "Robin of the Hood." All the

men in the hall laughed at the hero's antics, meting out justice to deserved villains. We all clap

and cheer when the singer ends his tale.

"Our next singer is my newly acquired Page!" The Duke shouts jovially to the crowd.

Wait, what?!

I lean next to him, "My lord. I can't sing!" Panic had infused me. I can sing, but I sing

like, you know? A woman! My cover will be blown!

"Get up there and sing, Page!" The Duke laughs. "Don't worry, lad! We won't throw you

out of the castle to sleep with the dogs if your voice is too wretched!" Is he joking?

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I never saw Bryce so happy and boisterous. He consumed a lot of alcohol tonight, which

also may be helping with his superb mood. I inwardly roll my eyes and stand, heading towards

the middle of the room, fear nagging my every step. What am I to do?

An idea strikes me. The men don't know my age, and to them, I could just be a young lad

who hasn't yet matured. I can pretend to sing in falsetto. Now, for a song.

I am standing in the middle of the room, watching the men, hoping for inspiration for a

tune that the men can identify with. I'm surrounded by knights! Why is this hard?

My thoughts trigger a memory of a song, and I begin to sing The Moody Blues, "Knights

in White Satin." I close my eyes, and my throat is pushing out a clear resonance, letting the song

carry me while tuning out everything and everyone in the room.

The last note dies in my throat, and I open my eyes, sensing all eyes in the room were on

me. Heat creeps up my checks, an indication that I am blushing from the attention, and I cannot

tell if my performance went down badly. I glimpse at the Duke, and his eyes were slanted, and he

was stroking his chin. Oh shit! He's contemplating something! I hold my breath in anticipation,

scared shitless I had been found out.

Bryce Plantagenet stands and claps his hands loudly, a signal for the rest of his men to

follow suit. The crowd starts to whistle in cheer, air bursts from my lips in relief. I give a curt

bow to the group, retreating to my chair, the Duke already sitting in his.

Once seated, and out of my peripheral vision, the Duke was watching me. I fight with all

my might to not stare at him because if I do, I'd probably give myself away. A woman.

He doesn't say anything and turns his attention back to the men in the room who were

now beginning to become rowdy. Bodies of men are wrestling each other to the floor while

laughter filled the hall.

The Duke rises again, telling him men it was time to go to bed, and they had to finish

their travel arrangements by tomorrow, sobering the men to stop their horseplay.

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I stand and follow him to his bedroom. Not a word was spoken between us when I snuff

out the candles.