As the gathered soldiers yelled out their approval, Ian was astonished to find himself actually pitying Giles. The nobleman's face was ashen pale even though he somehow managed to stare coolly at Elaine but surely within his mind the realization must have dawned just how unpopular he was with his father's troops. There was no one here that Giles could ever truly trust except for his cousin and of course, his father. And at the moment his father was extremely angry with him.

But even if he was furious with his son, Eustace still loved Giles. The Count rose to his feet and the soldiers gradually fell silent around the scene so they could hear what their lord would say now. "Milady, for all his faults, he is my one and only son and heir."

Elaine never dropped her gaze from Eustace's face. "And Martin is my only love and lord. But…" her hand dropped to rest lightly over her stomach "…I have his child to consider as well."

Giles sneered but Ranulph's furious whisper kept him from what was most likely an insulting remark. Ferret used the opportunity to speak instead. "Milord, milady, might I suggest a possible solution?"

Eustace let out a deep breath, nodding to the mercenary captain as he once more sat. "Please do, Captain Ferret."

"Milady, does Lord Martin know about this child?"

She shook her head. "No. I'd just found out the day before Sir Giles returned with your men. I've hadn't had the chance to tell him as yet. It didn't seem the time to give such glad news and I didn't want him to worry about me any more than he was already after he'd discovered I was still there with him."

"I see." Ferret shook his own head in admiration. "You are indeed a remarkable lady."

"What does this have to do with your solution?" Giles didn't even bother to hide his disdain for Ferret.

"Shut up, Giles." Eustace motioned to Ferret. "What is your solution?"

"Simply this. Lord Martin cannot run his estate at present, I propose that you appoint an overseer to assist Lord Martin and Lady Elaine, subject to their approval, of course. Whoever you send them will stay on until Lord Martin's heir is old enough to run the estate by himself or her husband can. Would that be agreeable, Lady Elaine?"

She nodded. "If our kin of Burgundy and Aquitaine approve your choice, I will accept this settlement. But surely whomever you choose must be paid for his work?"

Count Eustace nodded grimly. "Oh aye, he shall be well recompensed. His pay will come out of the household funds of my son as penalty for his actions. I will direct my chancellor to subtract them every month. Also, the money awarded to Captain Ferret will come out of the same funds. Is that satisfactory to all?"

Elaine somehow managed to curtsy without dirtying her gown with mud. "It is, milord. I hope you will forgive me, milord, but I hope I never see your son's face again."

"I think I can safely say that Giles will be busy far away from here for quite some time to come." He gave his son a hard look as the crowd laughed. Then Count Eustace rose once more to his feet. "Unless there is more to be said on this matter, we are finished. We've a campaign to fight. Commanders, my tent in one hour!"

The assembled army began dispersing, although there were some exceptionally ribald remarks shouted at Giles who clenched his fists in frustration.

Eustace stepped closer to his son. "You'll return home immediately. I'll need some time to think of an appropriate place to send you. Meanwhile, you might start packing for a pilgrimage. You've gotten off lightly. Consider this a warning to change your ways. Now get out of my sight." He turned his back on his son and next approached Ferret.

"You've found a way to save both your young friend and my son. You'll have to tell me later how you found all this out. But until then, take this." The Count slid a ring off his right hand and handed it to his friend. "You've earned it."

Ferret bowed and pocketed the ring. "Thank you, milord Count," he grinned. "I'll see you in an hour."

Eustace smiled and shook his head, then walked off without another look back at his son. Ferret turned to his small party. "Well, you heard the man. Let's escort the lady to her husband's tent, and then start breaking camp."

They all nodded agreement, but before they moved off, Ian took a last look towards Giles. The hate on the young nobleman's face was enough to convince Ian of one thing...

Giles would neither forgive nor forget what had happened this day.

*****************************************

Camp was indeed broken and the march resumed by midday. Ferret assigned a group of seasoned fighters to escort Lady Elaine and Lord Martin home and remain as guards until the new overseer arrived to take up his duties. The rest of the campaign went swiftly as Eustace took out his anger on his foes in battle and word spread. The burghers of the rebellious towns and cities quickly surrendered as it became apparent the Count was in no mood to suffer fools, and within a month Captain Ferret's men were paid off and the contract completed The mercenary company made plans to head south, back to Castile.

But before he left, Ian had to be sure that all was well back at Thierry. On a late summer's afternoon he rode back alone to the hill where it all began. Peace had returned to Thierry. Men were out tending to the fields and the overseer, a man named Andre, greeted Ian by the front gate of the manor.

"Welcome, sir. One of the lads will tend to your horse and we'll ready a room."

Ian dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to a stable boy. "What of the lord and lady of the manor?"

A troubled look passed over the man's face. "Perhaps you should speak with Lady Elaine, sir. It's not my place to speak of my betters' affairs. If you will follow me please, I'll take you to Lady Elaine."

He led Ian inside. Thierry Manor was clean, neat, and obviously well run but it wasn't hard for Ian to notice the subdued air of the servants he passed as he followed Andre into a small well furnished hall. Elaine sat by a window reading a scroll but as they entered she set it aside and stood, one hand absently smoothing a wrinkle in her dress. Her pregnancy was now more noticeable.

Ian bowed in respect. "Milady. I'm sorry to intrude on you this way, but I thought I would visit before I left France and see if all is well with you here."

She didn't speak at once and looking closer Ian saw with shock that the lady who'd bravely faced Count Eustace to demand justice had tears in her eyes. She shook her head.

"No, all is not well. Not well at all."

© 8/05


Always An Alternative part 8

Ian fought the impulse to take her hand in his to offer her some comfort. Elaine was a married woman and such familiarity would not be proper. Instead he took a seat near hers and let his concern show on his face and in his voice. "Milady, what is wrong? Is it Lord Martin?"

She nodded. "I'm at my wit's end. He sits by himself all day in a room and never comes out except at night to sleep ...elsewhere. A manservant attends to his needs." She had regained her composure but the stiffness of her body told Ian that Elaine was holding herself together by force of will alone. "He eats very little. He just…" She glanced away from Ian before continuing …"sits there, waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

Elaine turned back to face Ian. "To die, I think. Suicide is against the teachings of the Church, you see, and Martin would not intentionally kill himself and risk his immortal soul. But if he only eats a little, eventually he'll weaken and die if it's God's will. Clever of him, don't you think?" By now her tone of voice was flat and bitter.

Ian rose to his feet. "Where is this room?"

"The other side of the hallway. I doubt if he'll wish to see…speak with you, Master Blackthorn. He doesn't receive visitors."

"Perhaps he'll make an exception." Blackthorn started for the doorway, Elaine following behind.

They reached the door to the other room, and as Ian set his hand to open it, Elaine touched his arm. "What are you going to do?"

"Damned if I know. But whatever it is, you mustn't interfere." Then Ian opened the door.

*************************************************

Lord Martin de Thierry sat alone on a chair in the center of a small room. Three sides of the room had large open windows and the chair was turned to face the southern window. A small table with a bowl of fruit and a cup of water were set at Martin's right side.

Ian moved quietly into the room, now noting the man servant sitting over in a far corner ready if Martin needed him. As for Martin himself, a stranger might think he looked reasonably healthy except for the cloth covering the blind eyes, but Ian could see the changes. The skin was paler, the face thinner and the Frenchman's whole demeanor was one of disinterest. Lady Elaine was right; her husband was waiting for Death.

There were apples and pears in the fruit bowl and Ian picked up a pear and bit into it. The sound seemed loud in the quiet room, and Martin swung his head towards it. "Who's there?"

"Good day, Lord Martin, I'm sorry I didn't announce myself. It's Ian Blackthorn. I thought I would visit and see how you and your lady are getting along."

Martin sat unmoving. "How we are getting along? Well, you've seen. Now leave."

"Not quite yet, I think." Ian took another bite of his pear, wiping at the juice that wet his chin and noting how Martin's nose flared. "Mmm…these are good. Grown here in your orchards, I take it?."

"Yes. Take all you want and then leave." Now Martin turned his head away from Ian. "There's nothing else here for you to see."

Ian took a few steps so he once more stood facing Martin. "Should I tell you what I see, what I will tell my captain when I make my report to him?"

"Why should I care what a mercenary captain hears about me from you?"

Ian leaned a bit lower towards the sitting man. "I see a blind man who doesn't want to live but has enough presence of mind to set his chair so that he can keep track of time."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Of course you do. You had the chair set so you can feel the warmth of the sun on you as it reaches each window. I suppose the smell of the cook's fires tell you when dinnertime is near as well. Very clever."

Martin's hands gripped the chair's arms tightly. "Alright. So I found a way to mark the passing of time while I wait for it to end. What of it?"

"It's a waste. Yes, an overseer was appointed to help run the estate but he could use your help, the knowledge you have of this place and its people. Your wife is a brave and resourceful woman but she needs her husband beside her."

"Elaine would be better off without a cripple for a husband."

Ian took another bite of his pear before answering. "Really? Let's think this through, shall we? If you die this estate and your wife once more belong to her guardian to dispose of as he sees fit. Granted, he'll have no trouble finding her a new husband because of her fame. The minstrels sing about you both, you know, so she'll have value in forging an alliance. Maybe Giles will end up with her in the end…gods know his father would like that!"

"They wouldn't…"

"They most certainly would. Of course should Lady Elaine be given to a widower who already has an heir, then this would mean that your child would have no land or title except whatever its stepfather might see fit to grant it. Does that seem fair to you? It doesn't to me."

"You bastard! " Martin's face showed the first sign of emotion since Ian had entered the room, an expression of anger as his hands clenched at the armrests. "Are you enjoying this, taunting a blind man? Look at me! What choice do I have?"

Ian laughed. "You could stop feeling sorry for yourself for one thing. For another, you could get up off of your pitiful arse and act like a man. I've seen common foot soldiers hurt as bad or worse than you, Lord Martin, get on with their lives with a damn lot less advantages than you possess. You have wealth, a loving wife, and people loyal to you who were willing to die with you."

Ian was so intent on driving his point home he never saw Elaine coming until the flat of her hand slapped the side of his face. "How dare you! Don't you dare speak to him like this."

Ian reached out to stop a second blow, watching as Martin began to rise out of his chair. The half-elf released the Frenchwoman and stepped back. "Captain Ferret is fond of telling us that in any situation, we have choices to make. 'There's always an alternative', he says. Well here is yours, Lord Martin. Stay here in this room until you die, or leave it and live a full life with the woman who loves you and raise your child together. The choice is yours."

He walked out of the room. When he glanced back over his shoulder Elaine was whispering something intensely to her husband. Neither husband nor wife appeared for dinner in the hall that eve, nor were they present at breakfast the following day.

Ian rode out of Thierry Manor afterwards and never saw Lord Martin or Lady Elaine again.

© 9/05


Always An Alternative part 9

Sept 1,1105
Camelot Castle
Britain

Change was coming; it was in the wind

Ian stood by at a spot on the castle wall that afforded him a far view down the hill into Camelot Town and to the bay beyond, brushing his hair back out of his face after another gust of wind had blown it into disarray. A call from the stairs behind forced his attention back to the here and now. A moment later, a page appeared at the head of the stairway.

"Lord Blackthorn, someone's here to see you. He says he has a message for you."

Ian grinned. "Steady on, lad. Take a few breaths. Now, who sent the message?"

The boy did as instructed and then spoke. "From someplace called Thierry, sir. That's in France!"

Ian raised a brow at that name, then nodded. "Well done. Next time, don't run up those stairs unless the message is urgent. Now let's go down and see what this is all about shall we?"

They took the stairs at a normal pace, Ian smiling to himself as the page nearly bumped into him from behind once or twice in his eagerness. Down in the courtyard a horseman sat calmly awaiting them, a servant standing nearby with two large wicker baskets on the ground beside him. Marcus and Timmons emerged from the barracks across the yard to hurriedly join the group.

The rider swung down off his horse and bowed with respect as Ian reached him. "Have I the honor of addressing the man named Ian Blackthorn who visited Thierry some twenty years ago?" The speaker was a young man wearing clothes of good cut and material. His tunic bore the Thierry emblem.

"Yes I am, although visit perhaps is too kind a term. My companions here, Lt. Marcus and Sgt. Timmons were also at Thierry at that time. And who sir might you be?" Ian asked, although he had a fairly good idea what the answer would be from studying the man's features.

"I am Sir Richard de Thierry, and I have been asked by my parents to deliver this message and these items," he gestured to the basket "to you. I am on my way to London and they asked that I stop here to help them make an agreed upon payment." There was a questioning look on young Sir Richard's face as he handed Ian a sealed letter.

Ian smiled and took the letter. "Of course. It is late in the day, Sir Richard. Please stay for the evening before continuing on your journey. We've an empty chamber or two and excellent meals. We'll speak more at dinner."

"Thank you, milord." Richard bowed. He had his mother's light hair, but the face and eyes favored Lord Martin and brought back the memory of that hillside battle.

"Very well. If you and your man follow this page, you'll be shown to your room for the night and I'll see your mounts are cared for as well. Until dinner, Sir Richard."

The young man bowed and moved off with the page. Ian began to open the letter, then stopped as heated whispers between Marcus and Timmons made him look over at them. "Alright, what are you two arguing about now?"

Timmons looked a bit sheepish. "We can't remember the wager."

"Well, it was over twenty years ago!" Marcus added.

Ian shook his head and turned his attention to breaking the seal. "As I recall, Timmons wagered that Lord Martin would hire an assassin to kill me for the affront to his honor. Marcus wagered he wouldn't."

Timmons scowled, then fished out a gold coin and tossed it to Marcus. "Nothing personal, Ian. I was younger then and more pessimistic."

"Aye, as opposed to the older, more mellow man you are now." Ian laughed, then finally broke the wax seal and opened the letter.

The others moved closer. "What's it say?" asked Marcus.

Ian held it out so all three of them could read:

To Sir Ian Blackthorn of Camelot:
     Greetings!
     We regret so much time has passed until now without contacting you. But after your departure for Thierry there was much anger within us for you and when it had finally faded away, you were no longer in France. It was only news of the recent events in Camelot that told us of your present whereabouts.
     I eventually came to realize why you spoke as you did that afternoon so long ago when you visited us here. It was my anger at you that forced me to make the choice you knew I had to make, and it was the right choice. Richard, who bears this letter to you, is our second son. Our eldest, Jehan, remains here at Thierry. He is married and now awaits the birth of his own first child; God willing, we will hold our first grandchild in our arms next spring. Without your words that day, none of this would have comer to pass.
     We owe you more than we can ever repay.
     But we do have the means to repay one debt: we never paid you the agreed upon ransom of two bushels of apples. Richard bears our payment to you with one small adjustment in remembrance of that afternoon. We think you'll understand. The fruit is not from Thierry land, but was purchased just before Richard's ship sailed, so with any luck it will still be fresh by the time it reaches you.

With deepest regards and thanks.
Lord Martin de Thierry

P.S. My thanks as well. May God bless you!
Lady Elaine de Thierry

Ian grinned as he folded the letter. "Well, two sons, eh?"

Marcus nodded and chuckled. "What do they mean, an adjustment?

Ian walked over and opened the baskets. The first contained apples. When he opened the second, he paused and then laughed.

Timmons looked over his shoulder. "Pears? What is this supposed to mean?"

Ian reached down, picking out a large juicy looking one and took a bite. He chewed then swallowed.

"It means…" he took a second bite. "there is always an alternative."

© 9/05

~ finis ~