Enough Part II

[maderr]

*~*~*

Brice had halted only for the sake of the horse.

If it were merely a matter of his own health, he would forsake it to make for tourney with all due haste. He would not leave Kodey in the hands of a murderer.

He went over all that he had learned in the past weeks, still unable to believe it. More than a few pieces of gold had he been forced to part with, and more than a few arrows had been notched to prove that he would accept no refusal.

Kodey would not come to harm so long as Brice breathed.

Thoughts of Kodey further blackened his mood, and he wondered morosely as he stoked his fire if Kodey was enjoying himself, or utterly wretched, and how everyone else in attendance was treating him. Was he flourishing? Failing? Did he love it? Loathe it? What if he found himself so enamored of the lifestyle that he chose not to return to Castle Triad?

Brice felt sick at the thought of never again waking to see Kodey stumbling sleepily about his morning chores, watching his morning bouts before going off to his own archery practice. What if he never again had the chance to steal away Kodey's lunch, simply because he was so much fun to tease and provoke?

The past weeks had been miserable enough. So many times had he wanted to turn and see Kodey smiling or laughing, had started to point out things in the capital which he knew would interest Kodey, only to recall at the last there was no one at his side. More than once he had wanted nothing more than to tug Kodey close and simply hold him.

Had Kodey found his ring? Had someone else noted the inscription and pointed it out to him? How would Kodey react? Would he merely find it amusing? Likely, for it was naught but silliness…

Irritably shaking his head, Brice devoured the food he had neglected while he brooded. Half a day more of travel would have him at the tourney, and he would fetch the guards of Triad and they would take Kodey and return home.

Let the nobles have their games and murders. Kodey would not be dragged down in the mire with them.

He wanted to be moving, but if he did not let the horse properly rest then he would only waste precious time obtaining a new one. If he waited just a few hours more—

The sound of the leaves moving in a manner they should not grabbed his attention just in time, and Brice brought up his bow, notched and ready, just as the men appeared at the very edge of his small camp. "Be off," he said coldly.

"Peace," said a man who seemed to be the leader of what he saw was six men.

"Nay," Brice replied, not lowering his bow even as he put a name to the face before him. The Duke de Capre. Interesting. This was the one who had lost a secret lover to the cruelty of Duke Lons. Unearthing that small bit of information had cost Brice nearly all his gold, but he had succeeded in obtaining it, which was all that mattered. "Six against one are odds that displease me mightily. Nor do I like that you come upon me with arms drawn, your Grace. State your business or you will find yourself the recipient of my arrow."

"As you say," the Duke coolly. "We are six to your one. Shooting me would gain naught but your death, and I have stated already we come in peace."

"Come in peace with weapons drawn? Oh, aye, those are believable words. Your men would kill me, your Grace, but my arrow is aimed straight at your head. Never have I missed my mark, and should your men kill me I will die with those words still true. If you come in peace, then toss away your weapons."

The Duke motioned, and his men grimaced visibly but obediently cast their swords and bows upon the ground.

Brice did not lower his own bow. "Tell me, your Grace, why you intrude upon me at so strange a place and hour."

"Tell me why you ask questions of affairs which are none of your concern," the Duke replied.

"The Duke Lons was brutally attacked by men working for your gold," Brice said, arrow still notched and ready. "Your affair became mine the very moment blood was spilled upon my lands because of it. One man was nearly killed saving the Duke you wanted dead, and even now that man has been taken off to tourney by the Duke. Your affair, therefore, has very much become my own. State the reason for your presence or yet more blood will be spilled over the matter."

Frowning, the Duke sat down before the fire, motioning his men to do the same. "Peace, I swear it. I want truth, not still more bloodshed. Burden enough to spill blood in battle, more than a little detestable to spill so much in times and places of peace. I wanted only to know the reason a Beauclerc made so many inquiries into my private affairs. By your leave, I would have the full of the tale."

"Nay," Brice replied, finally lowering his bow. "Not unless you are willing to give a full tale in return, and under the circumstances I feel perhaps you should speak first. Your Grace."

The Duke frowned at him, but after a moment simply sighed and nodded. "Aye. Mind you if we break our fast while the tales are told? We have traveled hard, and my men deserve to rest and eat. More than happy are we to share."

"By all means, do eat and rest," Brice answered. He sat in silence as they proceeded to do precisely that, finally breaking it only when he saw the Duke was near finished with his meal. "You call me Beauclerc, yet my relatives have not acknowledged me since I departed the capital some eight years ago."

"Last time I spoke with your uncle, he did naught but remark upon how his nephew was good enough to be taken into the keep of the infamous Lady Winifred," the Duke said dryly. "There is nothing like a nice hint of notoriety to enliven a family tree. I promise your relatives do far more than merely acknowledge you, Brice Beauclerc."

Brice shrugged his words away. "I care not. Tell me your tale, your Grace, for I leave the very moment my horse is rested enough. Not even for you will I tarry a second longer than I must."

The Duke laughed. "We are only three years apart, you and I. More than once I recall how…vocal you could be when that temper was sparked. I see the years have not gentled that quality the slightest bit." He held up his hands when Brice glared. "Peace, I begin my tale. Near three months ago, as you no doubt have learned, the body of a young man washed up on the shore of the river. One of those who found the body recognized him as being a tenant on my lands."

"Aye," Brice replied. "My gold revealed him to be much more than a tenant, your Grace."

"Your gold revealed disconcertingly honest information," the Duke said dryly, "especially since I lost much gold myself to ensure silence. Ah, well. Yes, he was my lover. A matter of some secrecy, as you would well know."

Brice nodded. Nobility did not dally with peasants, especially when the peasant was not only many years younger but the nobility was one of the most powerful in the realm. Duke de Capre should be selecting a wife from the multitude of available offerings, not bedding a young peasant boy. "I fail to see how he became the victim of his Grace, though the monk with whom I spoke did not hesitate on that point."

"Nay," the Duke said, expression downcast. "He was most certain 'twas Lons who slit his gut and threw him from the bridge. Why either of them was there, and together, I know not." His face tightened. "I know only that Lons is responsible for my loss, and that I cannot accuse him of it as I would like."

Not without serious repercussion and humiliation to his House. Neither could Lons take issue with the brigand attack, for it would reveal the whole of the matter and his own despicable part in it. Two nobles trapped by their own duties and obligations, and the consequences of their actions.

He missed Castle Triad. Now more than ever he wanted to fetch Kodey and return home.

"You lose a lover and send brigands to slaughter an entire caravan?" Brice asked at last. "Seems to me you are as much a knave as the Duke Lons."

Duke de Capre shook his head. "Nay, I gave them orders to harm none but Lons."

"Then you are the greatest of fools to trust brigands to obey such orders when even a simpleton would realize 'twould be most profitable to attack the caravan and make off with the bulk of it. Your brigands killed all but Lons and two others, and they survived only because Castle Triad came to his aid."

"I…" Duke de Capre shook his head. "Aye, I am naught but a knave and a simpleton. 'Twas not what I wanted by far. This mess only grows worse by the moment."

"Aye," Brice said, voice going cold. "If your foolishness brings harm to Kodey, I will see you both are fit for naught more than monks' work the rest of your miserable lives."

The Duke smiled. "There is a tone I recognize. Your Kodey will come to no harm by my hand. I am of a mind to go with you to end matters with Lons one way or another."

Brice snorted contemptuously. "If you were willing to make such sacrifice from the start, mayhap you would not be in your present situation."

"Mayhap you should guard your tongue," the Duke said sharply. "I will tolerate what impertinence I must, but one younger than I and free to make choices will not lecture me on the choices I have and will make, especially when you know not what choices I made."

"I know plenty about choices," Brice replied coolly. "More than you, your Grace. My father gave up his nobility to be with my mother, and I gave up the life of a noble to live as a mere tenant in a remote keep. Lady Winifred sacrificed all claim to her royal heritage to live with her bastard-born husband in that very same keep. Sir Chastaine and Sir Lyon were willing to sacrifice their spurs to remain lowly Seneschals. Do not speak to me of choices when I am surrounded by people more willing to make them than you."

The Duke looked away, staring off into the forest. "I say again do not judge me when you know not what choices I have made, and what choices I was willing to make."

Brice grimaced. "Let us end the discussion, your Grace. You intend to come with me to the tourney?"

"Aye. This matter must end one way or the other. Though I would prefer to avoid it, I must I will take the tale to the Grand Duke, whom I know to be in attendance there."

"The Grand Duke?" Brice said, looking up. "I had heard rumors to that effect, but thought them naught more than that."

"His granddaughter was married recently, and her husband knighted less than a fortnight ago. This will be his first tourney, and the Grand Duke wishes to bear witness."

Brice almost groaned aloud at that. He could only imagine what Kodey would manage to do before the Grand Duke. He would show himself well or manage some feat that resulted in Castle Triad receiving a most interesting missive. Fervently he hoped Kodey was not using the tournament to further one of his strange and most often disastrous plans – and only the heavens knew what manner of plan he would be furthering by way of a tourney. Brice felt his blood run cold just thinking about it. To this day the tenants and villagers talked about the various plans of Kodey's which had gone awry.

He wished he were there to know for certain, that he was going simply to watch Kodey show himself well, rather than solely to cause some manner of upheaval. Chastaine had admonished him to keep to sword and dagger, not even bothering to argue Kodey out of attempting the joust – but Brice doubted Kodey would settle for less than joust, sword, and either mace or battle axe.

Likely Kodey was perfectly happy to be shown about by his thrice-cursed Duke and foolishly accepting favors from every lad or lass who cared to bestow one upon him. He had known it would come to this someday, and had promised himself he would accept gracefully. He would. That did not mean he could not privately loathe and despise everyone and everything that stole Kodey from him. Why had Duke Lons come and ruined it all? If not for him, Brice would still have Kodey to himself and the inevitable might have been forestalled a while longer.

As Lyon would say, however, the arrow had to be pulled out before the wound could be tended and begin healing. It had been foolish to hold onto even the slightest bit of hope that Kodey might be content with him. 'Twas better these events had transpired, minus the murderous elements.

The thought was empty comfort, and only soured his mood further.

"What troubles me most," Duke de Capre said suddenly, drawing Brice's attention, "is that I paid those brigands to kill Lons. That they have not done…no doubt they care not…but what if they still linger to finish the job?"

Brice frowned. "The majority of them were killed, and they would not have launched another attack on Triad lands."

"Mayhap they attacked between Triad and the tourney sight," the Duke said pensively. "Though 'tis equally likely naught has occurred."

Cold fear spread through his body, and Brice stood, no longer willing to be patient. All the talking had surely given his horse sufficient time to rest. He moved to smother the fire and clear the small camp, ignoring the men around him. They could follow or not, keep pace or fall behind. He cared not. His only thought was of Kodey.

Mounting his horse, he turned it back to the main road and raced off, ignoring the shouts behind him. If any was foolish enough to impede or halt him, he would find himself with an arrow lodged in his eye.

He turned as he heard and saw from the corner of his eye Duke de Capre draw close.

"Beauclerc, this mad race will get you nothing, surely you must see that. Calm down, I am certain my words were poorly spoken. Greedy brigands would not waste their time upon a second attack."

Brice ignored him.

"It is easy to see this Kodey is precious to you, so surely you must realize—"

Yanking hard on the reins, Brice turned in his saddle to face the Duke, who had stopped alongside him. "Precious," he repeated slowly.

"Yes, I—"

Brice punched him, more than a little cheered to see as the Duke tumbled gracelessly from his horse. Kodey, even younger, had taken a punch with much better form. Heavens above he did not regret the day he had ridden back to Castle Triad to help Lyon and so sealed his own fate.

"Your knavery and lies have caused problems to those who should not be entangled in your affairs. Kodey is not precious to me, he is everything to me, and if this squabbling between you and Duke Lons so much as harms a single hair upon his head, I will soak the tourney fields in your blood and hang you from the parapets by your entrails."

He spurred his horse, forgetting the Duke and his men, forgetting all but his destination, fervently hoping that the only trouble Kodey suffered was the result of his own foolish plans and over-eager nature.


*~*~*

Kodey collapsed upon his bed with a groan.

He was never moving again. It hurt too much.

At least he was finally out of the bloody armor. He was never jousting again. Never.

He definitely had not shown himself as well as he had hoped. The most he could say was that he had only been unseated once, but it had been very near a thing the second and third times. That was more than enough, and he felt wretched at the thought of having to recount his abysmal failure where Brice might learn of it – but he had shown himself well in mace earlier that morning, and if he showed himself well in sword then perhaps the two good showings would make up for the abysmal third. Surely that would be enough.

Groaning again, Kodey turned over so that he could stare up at the ceiling. Far in the distance he could hear the continuing tourney, the cheers and screams as another pair jousted, the ring of steel, the cries of venders and the songs of minstrels.

Thankfully his final trial was not quite upon him.

Reaching up, he groped blindly at his neck for the leather thong hanging from it. Sitting up, wincing in pain, he pulled it from his neck and removed the bracelet and ring. He had put them there for safekeeping while he jousted, and would stow them again for his next bouts. They were comforting to look upon, however. Ademar had shown well in his own joust; Isemay had near screamed herself hoarse cheering for him.

It had made Kodey lonely, for all that more than a few spectators had cheered for him as well. Since the banquet, all manner of people had approached him, spoken with him, many asking questions of Lady Winifred or Chastaine and Lyon. Even the Grand Duke had summoned him briefly – and how sick to his stomach had he felt to discover the identity of that old man. Chastaine or Brice would have cuffed him good and hard had they known he had forgotten so important a crest as that of the Grand Duke.

The grandfather of Lady Isemay, and that most certainly increased his anxiety a thousand fold. He had been given a token by the granddaughter of the Grand Duke. What did that mean? Was there special etiquette? Was he being suitably polite and respectful? Would Chastaine be receiving a missive in regards to his knavish behavior at tourney? Was he embarrassing Yvain?

Groaning loudly, Kodey fell back upon the bed and turned to bury his face in the soft coverlet.

He did not stir until a knock upon the door forced the matter, reluctantly sitting up just enough to brace himself on his elbows, calling for the knocker to enter.

Yvain appeared in the doorway, smiling with amusement as he took in Kodey sprawled across the bed. "Still recovering from the joust?"

"Aye," Kodey replied, grimacing. "Mayhap I should not have attempted it." He sat up and smiled as Yvain sat down next to him. "I thank you for this kindness, your Grace. 'Tis something I never once thought to experience, and poor show or not I am having very grand a time. Truly you have been far too kind to me."

Laughing, Yvain reached up to tousle his hair. "Nay, it is good to see you so enjoying it. My youth was spent fighting too many real battles; I am afraid I lost all taste for even these mock combats." He smiled, but there was only sadness in it, and Kodey could only stare bemused. "I think many would say 'twould have been better that day to leave me to die, but I appreciate your saving my life. If the least I can do is let you play as young men should, that is little enough. Now, come, you should do something about those bruises and muscles before you become too stiff and sore to move."

"Aye, aye," Kodey said obediently. Groaning loudly as his body announced it was already stiff and sore, he stripped off his tunic and the linen beneath, baring his chest. He winced at the massive bruise spread across his side and even part of his stomach. The banquet that night would be a special torture all its own, he did not doubt. His armor, thankfully, had spared him more serious damage. He had taken far worse in arguments with Brice, as more than one of those had taken them from the embrasures all the way down to the moat far below.

Tossing the clothes into a corner, he fumbled through his leather satchel for the salve made by Lady Winifred and the other women. It healed near everything, and only moments after applying it Kodey could breath a sigh of relief that did not cause spikes of pain throughout his body.

Yvain laughed where he still sat upon the bed. "'Tis no wonder you have so many hoping for your victories today, and I am astonished you do not carry a multitude of favors."

"My ring and Lady Isemay's token are all I require," Kodey said, striding to his trunks and pulling out fresh robes.

"Aye," Yvain agreed idly, picking up the objects abandoned upon the bed. He stroked the jeweled bracelet briefly, then shifted his attention to the ring. Kodey paid it no mind, more interested at glaring at the contents of his trunk until his fresh tunics deigned to reveal themselves.

He had finally unearthed one when Yvain's words drew him up short.

"What is the riddle behind this inscription?"

Kodey dropped the tunic he held, staring. "What inscription?" He strode across the room and took the ring as Yvain held it out. By the…there was an inscription. Abruptly there seemed to be no air in the room, or perhaps it simply could not get past the sudden constriction of his throat.

To Whelp, from My Lady

His eyes stung and Kodey struggled to maintain some dignity. Brice…those words could only have come from Brice, and how like him to be so completely…so completely Brice about the matter. Kodey wished Brice were here so he could punch the bastard soundly. Or kiss him soundly, even if very likely Brice would then punch him.

"I did not see the inscription before," he said slowly, not entirely trusting his voice. "I found the ring in my trunk shortly after our arrival. I thought 'twas a gift from Sir Chastaine or Lady Winifred."

Yvain smiled faintly, looking more than a little amused. "I take it the inscription reveals neither of those to be the one who bestowed the gift?"

"Nay," Kodey said softly, looking again at the inscription. "'Twas Brice."

"Ah, the pretty Beauclerc who ever strove to slay me with a glance," Yvain said, laughing. "I think I begin to see the whole of the tapestry. I confess I am still curious as to the inscription. Some private jest?"

Kodey smiled faintly. "Aye, something much like that. Upon our first meeting, I was quite besotted. I had never before seen a man who possessed such beauty, and never had I seen hair such as his. He demanded to know why I was gawking, and called me a whelp. I took offense, and accused him of looking like a girl." He smiled, though it was part grimace, torn between amusement and vexation. "I am afraid that our manners in regards to one another never improved."

"Indeed," Yvain said. He stood and clapped Kodey lightly on the shoulder. "Finished getting dressed, ere you miss your sword trial. I am certain you want grand stories to take home to your Brice."

"Aye," Kodey said, and moved to obey even as Yvain departed.

Several minutes later he was back upon the tourney grounds, moving through the crowd of knights and spectators and entertainers, boots squelching in ground turned muddy by a brief summer shower the night before and the surfeit of activity.

Nodding or waving to those who called his name, Kodey made his way to the dueling grounds. For this he did not require a full suit of armor; simple mail, sword, and shield would serve him best. Nor did he wear a helm – a risk, but one he would take, for Chastaine and Lyon alike had advised being able to see well, for that as much as anything was likely to spare him taking wound.

He smiled as he saw a long sleeve flapping at him, and crossed the muddy field to look up at Isemay.

"You are here at last, good sir," she called down from the stands. "I feared none would come to give my husband a sound thrashing. I am happy to see I shall not be disappointed."

Kodey swept her a deep bow. "I would hate to disappoint a lady," he said, laughing.

"Then do not," Isemay commanded with mock haughtiness, "but go forth and thrash my husband."

"Aye, my lady," Kodey replied, bowing again. "Your wish is my command."

"Do not make her more unbearable than she already is, if you please," Ademar said, coming up alongside him, resting a hand on Kodey's shoulder as he glared up at his wife. "If anyone ever did need a thrashing…"

Isemay sniffed and tossed her head. "Be off with you, husband, and receive your thrashing nobly."

"Aye, wife," Ademar replied, rolling his eyes before sketching a bow of his own. He started to say more, when a herald called their names, voice sharp and piercing above the din of the crowds.

Kodey exchanged a brief smile with Ademar as they headed to the center of the combat field and took position at their respective ends. High in the stands, at the front and center point, was the Grand Duke, who signaled to the herald. Nodding, the herald called out the start of the bout.

He wasted no time, but went straight to the offensive, drawing his sword as he moved, bringing up his shield to knock aside Ademar's defensive swing, encountering a shield himself, knocking it hard enough to sway Ademar's balance briefly.

Ademar recovered more quickly than he had anticipated, however, and Kodey found himself in the defensive position. He laughed and kept the position for several more swings, arms jarring from the force of the blows – Ademar was no slattern with his blade.

Blow after blow rained down, blocked and parried and dodged as he was driven back – then abruptly Kodey lunged forward, not with sword but with shield, swinging out hard, knocking into Ademar's shield with enough force to send him stumbling. Only then did he bring his sword up, driving a struggling Ademar back, regaining the ground he had sacrificed in order to steal back the offensive.

In the next moment, however, he was the one taken by surprise. He could not even say for certain what happened, except that Ademar had quite clearly been holding back in regards to speed until that moment.

Were it not that he was quite running out of breath, Kodey would have laughed. This was ever so much better than true battle. He threw himself into it with renewed fervor, using every trick he had learned in order not to be pummeled by Chastaine and Lyon.

Some time later, he knew not how long, the Grand Duke's voice rang out, far louder and sharper than even the herald had been. "Enough!" he bellowed. "Combatants, you have done enough."

Kodey immediately ceased. He grinned at Ademar, who offered one of his own. Lifting their swords, they knocked them together before turning and kneeling before the Grand Duke.

"You show yourselves well, combatants," the Grand Duke said, motioning for them to rise as he began to clap, the people around him following suit, until the applause in the small field was deafening.

Over all of it, louder than even the herald and the Grand Duke, was Isemay. She let out a sound that could only be described as a shriek, and jumped down from the stands – Ademar bellowing all the while for her to behave – and bolted across the field toward them.

"Woman," Ademar said with a groan, "you are an affront to decency and decorum."

Isemay laughed and threw herself into his arms, and Kodey snickered as Ademar did not really put up much fuss about the kiss she placed upon his lips. He laughed all the harder as the ruckus around them increased thrice over, shaking his head as Ademar and Isemay made a proper show of things.

'Twould make him jealous save he simply was too happy to be bothered.

"I do wonder what your grandfather will have to say about this," he said with a laugh as Isemay let go of her husband, looking briefly at where the Grand Duke had his face buried in one hand.

She grinned as she embraced him and kissed his cheek. "Oh, I am certain he will tell my father that is what comes of being too soft with his daughter, but privately he will be impressed and pleased and proud. He spoils me."

"Aye, that he does," Ademar groused, but the effect was ruined by his far-too-pleased expression.

Kodey sheathed his sword and abandoned his shield – there were young boys aplenty willing to take such things back for the ability to brag about which of them had done what for whom. He stretched out an arm to Ademar, who grasped it, smiling warmly.

"We shall have to arrange a private rematch someday, Kodey."

"Aye," Kodey agreed. "Mayhap you both will visit Castle Triad sometime, and we can have another bout then."

"Oh, my," Isemay breathed, long sleeves fluttering as she drew her hands to her chest, eyes fastened on something behind them. "Might I kiss him next?"

Ademar scowled and turned sharply around.

Kodey turned at the same time – and could not believe his eyes. "Brice!" he cried out, and bolted across the field as fast as his feet would take him. Surely he had taken a blow to the head, or the jousting had done him in more thoroughly than he had expected.

Only at the last moment did he recall that what Isemay had done to Ademar would not be looked well upon if he were to do the same to Brice, though he wanted nothing so badly as to throw himself into Brice's arms and kiss him.

The last moment was, however, a trifle too late. He was spared crashing into Brice and toppling them both only because Brice shot out an arm and forced a halt.

"Brice, what are you doing here?" Kodey demanded, grinning. Had Brice truly come to see him? "Did you witness my sword bout? Did I show myself well? How long have you been here?" He faltered to a stop when Brice only frowned, the expression worsening as he looked around them, lingering on Isemay and Ademar – and turning positively cold as his eyes landed upon someone Kodey could not see.

He twisted in the grip Brice still had upon one shoulder, and saw him glaring at Yvain.

No. Brice was here and had given him the ring, and whatever foul mood had a grip, Kodey would not let it remain. He knew immediately what would distract. Shaking off the hand still upon his shoulder, though he was loath to lose the touch, he summoned his best smirk. "Did you see the bout I faced for you, my lady?" he demanded.

Brice's eyes immediately snapped back to him, widening in surprise.

Kodey's humor abruptly died, lost to the same constriction of his throat he had suffered upon reading the inscription in the ring. "Thank you for the ring, Brice," he said, wanting to say so very much more but he did not dare for what if Brice turned him away? Better to always wonder than face that final anguish.

"You are welcome," Brice said, and the faintest of smirks curved his mouth. "Who made you aware of the inscription?"

"Mayhap I found it all on my own," Kodey challenged, and he was not flushing.

Brice laughed, and oh how he never tired of hearing that sound, even when he was the victim of it. "Nay, I think not."

Kodey sighed. "His Grace noted it, and made it known to me."

As quickly as a snuffed candle Brice's good humor went out. He glared as coldly as he had before, gray eyes hard as stone. He reached out and snagged Kodey's arm, jerking him roughly forward and any other time Kodey would have been more than content to be pressed so close against him. "We are departing," Brice said curtly.

"What?" Kodey demanded. "You have not met my friends, and there is the banquet, and I cannot simply leave before thanking his—"

"His Grace is a cruel murderer," Brice spat the words viciously. "We will no longer be mired in the plots in which the Dukes dwell."

Kodey shoved away, glaring angrily. "Murderer? Nay, Brice, yo—"

"Be silent," Brice snapped. "We depart, that is an order."

"I see," Yvain cut in, expression somber. He looked at Brice. "You went to the capital to learn more of my trouble with the brigands."

"Aye," Brice snarled. "I learned—"

"'Tis not what it seems," Yvain said, and something in his tone of voice gave even Brice pause. "I simply do not want de Capre to know certain facts about what transpired at the bridge that night."

"What facts might those be?"

Kodey startled at the man who suddenly drew close, as though from thin air, and he realized immediately who this was, and why he had stayed out of sight until Yvain's words compelled him forward.

Yvain looked ill, and did not draw his sword though the Duke de Capre's blade was leveled at him.

"Enough, knights," the Grand Duke bellowed. "Your behavior is unworthy of your stations. Sheath your swords and attend me in my quarters." He pointed to Kodey and Brice. "You will attend me as well." He turned sharply around and strode off, not waiting to see if his orders would be obeyed, knowing full well none would dare disobey.

Kodey glared at Brice, not entirely certain why he was angry, only that Brice was the source. Tearing away from the grip on his arm, he bolted toward the keep, ignoring Brice calling out his name.


*~*~*


Brice wondered morosely if he should not simply run himself through with his own sword.

Well and truly had he bungled everything, and the sympathetic looks he received from de Capre's men were salt in the wound.

He stomped angrily toward the keep, watching Kodey's swiftly retreating form until it finally vanished from sight.

This was not how he had wanted the matter to progress. He had hoped to take Kodey peacefully away, back to Castle Triad, and close the entire wretched affair.

Kodey had looked so happy – so comfortable – and that girl had kissed him, though Brice could clearly see she held him only in friendship, and all he had wanted upon seeing Kodey was to pull him close and kiss until Kodey thought upon none but he, until he wanted nothing but to return to Castle Triad and Brice.

Instead he had acted precisely like the short-tempered, jealous bastard he ever had been, and now Kodey was mad at him and any pleasure he might found because of the ring was now well and truly gone.

He had acted rashly, foolishly, and was suffering the consequences. If Lyon were here, he would have leveled a sound beating upon Brice.

Once inside the keep it took only asking a passing servant before he was all but pushed straight into the Grand Duke's solar. He immediately sought and found Kodey standing near the Grand Duke, just off to the right.

Kodey shot him a dark look, then pointedly looked away.

Brice stifled a sigh and moved to stand near but not so close Kodey would move away to make clear the depths of his ire. He turned to the Grand Duke and dropped to one knee, bowing his head respectfully. "Your Grace, I offer apologies most humble for my unseemly behavior and the problems I have brought to your tourney. 'Twas not my intent and I regret it most deeply."

"You are Brice Beauclerc," the Grand Duke said, lightly touching fingers to Brice's shoulder to indicate he may rise. "Castle Triad has been good for you, I see, though it has not curbed that tongue of yours."

"Nay, your Grace," Brice said, and normally the words would merely have made him sigh, but generally any reprimand to his person made Kodey laugh – or try not to laugh – and this time Kodey remained stonily unmoved. "I am afraid there is naught in existence which can teach me silence. Oft I think 'twould be best simply to cut out my tongue."

The Grand Duke chuckled. "Nay, that is going too far. Tell me why you came so angrily upon the tourney, and with such bold accusation."

Tersely Brice explained all that he had learned in the capital, right up to the moment de Capre joined his camp and confirmed all that he had learned. When he finished, the Grand Duke was frowning deeply.

The Grand Duke glanced toward Duke Lons, who looked as though he had swallowed a piece of rotted meat. "Duke Lons, Duke de Capre, approach me."

Immediately the Dukes obeyed, kneeling before him respectfully, standing only when he indicated they might. "Duke Lons, your words upon the tourney field leave me intrigued. What is the truth of the matter, as you know it?"

"Your Grace, I beg of you," Duke Lons said, closing his eyes. "I would much rather lose my life than speak the truth of the matter. I keep my silence for good reason, and would rather be executed a murderer than—"

"I did not offer you an option," the Grand Duke cut in. "I am ordering you, knight, to speak the truth."

Duke Lons nodded, but did not speak for several minutes, staring unhappily at the floor as though he hoped it would open up and swallow him whole. "I was out that night on business for your Grace…business pertaining to the matter of a particular ambassador…"

"Aye," the Grand Duke said, eyes sharp. "Continue."

"I encountered the peasant on the bridge, and knew him to be one favored by Duke de Capre," Lons said, voice gone oddly flat, as though he were too weary to interject any manner of emotion into it. "He looked ready to jump into the waters far below, and I called him down, demanding to know what he was about."

Beside him de Capre made as though to speak, but cut himself off.

Duke Lons continued. "We spoke at length, for his words and manner were disjointed; he was obviously deeply anguished. From what I was able to learn, 'twould seem Duke de Capre had declared to him every intent of surrendering his station to be with his lover openly. The peasant did not want such for the Duke… I thought I had dissuaded him from taking his own life, but at the last he lunged for me and grasped the dagger upon my belt. He then drove the dagger into his gut, and the pain of that sent him tumbling over the bridge. That is the truth of the matter, I vow it."

De Capre made a rough sound, eyes bright with pain. "You lie. Why, if that were the truth, would you keep it from me?"

Slowly Duke Lons dragged his eyes up, and the pain in them hurt to look upon. "I would rather you think me a murderer, and slay me for the crime, and find some measure of peace, than be burdened with the truth that now you have heard. Better to die than cause you that pain."

"What…" De Capre stared at him wide-eyed – then turned abruptly away with a choked sob and fled the solar.

The Grand Duke regarded Duke Lons in silence, then finally reached out and touched him lightly upon the shoulder. "Go."

Duke Lons turned and left, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

"That was not at all what I expected to hear," the Grand Duke said sadly. He looked at them both. "It only goes to show that older does not always mean wiser. However, this outcome may not be for the worst. It is entirely upon the Dukes to decide how to end the affair."

Brice saw Kodey move from the corner of his eye, and reached out to snag him before he could take off after Lons. "You heard his Grace, leave them."

"You upset him!" Kodey shouted angrily, jerking away. "He brought me here and let me fight and was never anything but kind and you with your confounded temper came and ruined everything."

"Kodey—"

"Fie on you," Kodey snarled, bolting away before Brice could stop him. He started to go after him, then wondered miserably what would be the point. His intentions had only been the best…a thousand times he had feared Kodey would have been seduced away, forever beyond his reach…

Not once had he considered 'twould be his own actions which lost Kodey to him forever. Brice stared at the door through which Kodey had vanished, wishing miserably that he might simply lay down and die.

He wanted Kodey to look upon him fondly again, to give him that look of uncontained joy he had upon the tourney field. Now Kodey would not even tolerate his touch…

"Now, Beauclerc," the Grand Duke said with a laugh, "do not look as though you have lost your lover forevermore."

Brice sighed. "He was never that, and never shall he be," he said heavily. "Most especially now, I think."

"Fie on that," the Grand Duke said lightly. "He is young, despite being older in experience than most of his peers. I would imagine that were you to apologize nicely, and perhaps make it clear why you act the way you do, that he would forgive you and gladly."

"Why does everyone from the Grand Duke to the lowest serf feel the need to interfere in matters between Kodey and me?" Brice asked irritably.

The Grand Duke laughed. "Perhaps because the two of you are bungling matters quite thoroughly, and we are compelled to take pity."

Brice rolled his eyes and dropped to his knees, rising nearly before the Grand Duke bid him stand, turning and striding from the room. Outside he faltered briefly, before halting another passing servant and demanding the location of Kodey's quarters.

Negotiating the keep itself was easy enough; one was very much like another. He found Kodey's room in mere moments, and pounded upon the door hard enough he half thought the whole of the keep shook with the force of it.

After a moment the door swung open – and Kodey promptly tried to slam it shut again. Brice threw his arm out, lodging it between door and frame, then shoved his foot through as well. "Kodey."

"Go away."

"Please, Kodey."

Kodey went still, staring at him a moment, still upset but thrown by the polite request. "Have you come to cause more trouble, or simply to drag me home?"

Brice bit back an urge to tell him to cease acting the child. Though he loathed admitting it, Kodey had every right to be angry. "I have come to offer my apologies," he said stiffly.

"Ah," Kodey said, and let go of the door, leaving it gaping open. Brice nearly tumbled to the floor, so sudden was the shift in balance, and he glared at Kodey's back for the childish stunt.

He stood in silence, watching Kodey with an unhappy frown, wishing so badly he could simply cross the room and press him into the bed and kiss away the worst of the hurt. Instead, he sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "I came here because I feared you were in grave danger, Kodey. 'Twas not my intent that things come to pass in the manner they did. I had every reason to believe Duke Lons was guilty of murder."

Kodey shrugged irritably, looking at his hands.

Brice sighed again and dared to move a few steps closer. "What do you want me to say, Kodey? I did not intend this, I swear it to you."

"I was happy to see you!" Kodey said, near bursting up from the bed, and for a moment Brice thought he was about to be pummeled something fierce. "You came, I thought that meant—" He bit his words off with a rough sound, turning his face away from Brice. "You only came to yell and yank me about, to drag me home with no explanation, without meeting my friends, and after hurting Yvain when he has been naught but kind to me."

"I told you, I had every reason—"

"You were not even happy to see me," Kodey interrupted. "You cared about naught but taking me off."

"I thought you were in danger," Brice snapped. "Would you have dallied or delayed were it anyone from Castle Triad you believed to be in danger?"

Kodey glared furiously at him, but did not reply.

"I swear it, Kodey—"

"So shall I pack my trunks that we might be off?" Kodey asked, voice gone flat.

Brice's frown deepened. "Nay…there is no reason to leave now. By all means stay and enjoy yourself as well as you can. I…" He stopped, shaking his head. What point was there in going further? He turned to leave. "If you decide to go elsewhere at the close of the tourney, do not forget to send word to Castle Triad."

"You are departing?" Kodey said, tripping over the words, as Brice reached the door.

He turned back, more than a little vexed. "You have made it quite plain that you want no part of my presence here," he said. "I thought to spare you the continued pain of enduring it."

Kodey confounded him all the more by looking positively devastated. "You do not want to stay?"

Brice wanted to strangle him. "You were the one who said my presence displeases you. What would you have of me, Kodey? Truly you have me confounded."

"My plans never work," Kodey said glumly, sitting down heavily upon his bed once more. "It matters naught what I do, always they fail me. I thought when I saw you that my final plan had somehow found success…but it too has failed."

Groaning, Brice crossed the room again and yanked Kodey to his feet. "What plan have you ventured upon this time, Kodey?" He examined every line of Kodey's face, the deep brown of his eyes, dismayed by the pain so deeply etched. "Kodey, whatever is the matter? I vow you drive me mad on purpose."

"Mad, aye," Kodey said sadly.

Brice shook him hard, then used his free hand to grasp Kodey's chin and force him to look up. "Kodey, what has you so distraught? Never did I mean to upset you so. 'Twas only of you I thought, and that made me more reckless than I might have otherwise been."

"Chastaine said I should just tell you," Kodey said abruptly, the words tumbling out in a near-incomprehensible rush. Brice had to repeat them to himself twice through before he was able to sort them out. "Foolish still, I think it, but all my other plans have failed and…"

Only barely did Brice resist strangling him. "Tell me what?"

"That-that I love you," Kodey said, and this time he said them so quickly and jumbled that Brice had to repeat the words thrice over in his head. "All my plans to earn your regard in return have failed."

Brice groaned. "You and your confounded plans, Kodey."

Kodey cringed, breaking free of the hand holding his chin. "Even Chastaine's plan has come to naught."

He looked ready to cry, something he had not done since being caught in a gruesome battle at only fifteen, and Brice could not bear it. Sinking a hand into Kodey's hair, cupping the back of his head, he once more forced Kodey to look up – and kissed him precisely as he had always wanted.

All the noble intentions he had ever possessed about not unfairly swaying Kodey's mind or manipulating youthful infatuations vanished. Kodey was his, and that was the end of the matter.

Kodey who had clearly never kissed anyone before, and that pleased him entirely too much, nearly as much as the startled noises fed into his mouth as Kodey because to clumsily kiss him back, and the moment was made all the sweeter by the fingers which clung for dear life to his tunic.

When at last they broke apart, the dazed look upon Kodey's face was most pleasing indeed.

"Y-you kissed me," Kodey said, eyes near wide enough to consume the whole of his face.

Brice nodded, brushing away a stray lock of hair from Kodey's forehead. "Aye, whelp, I did."

"Why?" Kodey demanded. "You—you always pushed me away, or shoved me in the moat, and ever are you mad at me for some thing or another. E-e-even the night you left, you bastard, your words were cruel and before that you were mad at me after we routed the brigands!"

"Would you stop speaking faster than I can follow?" Brice demanded. "What is all this nonsense about being mad at you?"

"You were!" Kodey said, looking quite as though he would like to swing a punch.

Brice kissed him again, and near forgot what they were discussing by the time he finally made himself break the kiss. "Mad? Nay, 'twas not anger." He laughed at the disbelieving look upon Kodey's face. "Twas only jealousy, you fool. That knave Duke would not stop touching you and I wanted quite badly to lodge an arrow in his head."

Kodey looked at him – then started laughing.

"Were there a moat," Brice said with a scowl, "I would toss you into it."

Kodey was still laughing when he reached up to throw his arms around Brice's neck, and dragged him down for another kiss.

Why had he resisted this for so long? How mayhap was the better question. Brice wanted to devour him, ensure forever that no one else ever had a chance.

"So my plans did not fail entirely?" Kodey asked when at last they broke apart again.

"What plans?" Brice asked, and he would not care in the slightest except Kodey sounded so uncertain.

Kodey pulled away, scrubbing at his hair. "I vowed I would make you fall in love with me by my eighteenth year. 'Tis a plan I have been working upon since I was twelve, and ever did it seem to fail."

"Nay," Brice said, cupping his face. "Ever have you been highest in my affections, Kodey…but you are young, and I feared as you grew older your feelings would change."

"We have thrown one another in the moat fifty one times," Kodey said. "I have stolen your clothes eleven times; you have punched me twenty three. Thrice did I paste your sword within its sheath, and nine times did I steal all your arrows. Ninety times have you over salted my food, twelve times did you leave spiders in my trunks. I lost count of our arguments. I think—" He swallowed and tried to smile. "I think if you are trying to ruin my affections, you shall have to try harder than that, my lady."

Brice smiled. "Nay, whelp. I would say the duel is over, and we have done enough. 'Tis naught left but to enjoy our mutual victory."

"Aye," Kodey replied, returning the smile, and holding as though he would never let go as Brice bent once more to kiss him.