Chaucer sat watching the flames of the fire as the rain came down. He felt mildly depressed, swishing the wine around in the goblet he realised that he missed the revelry of the Knight's Tournaments.
He had left it behind to start again as a Herald to the Black Prince. His only regret was leaving Wat behind. The young squire had refused to leave his master.
A knock came at the door and he rose and opened it. To his delighted surprise there stood Wat. Sodden from the rain and shaking off his overcoat. He waved his friend into his house.
"Wat! Come in, come in. What brings you to my door?"
Wat ducked into the room and held his hands out to the fire to warm himself, he was silent and had his back to the herald. His shoulders had a despondent slope, he was still. So unlike the constantly moving squire that Chaucer was immediately concerned.
He approached Wat and with a hand on his shoulder turned the squire to face him. He frowned at the misery on Wat's face.
"Wat, tell me. What news do you have? Why the long face?"
Wat launched himself into Chaucer's arms and started to weep. Chaucer wrapped his arms around him and held on as the flood of tears continued. He could barely make out what the weeping man said but it chilled him to the bone.
"He's dead. Will's dead. The girls and Rolly are a mess. Adhemar is distraught but he’s hiding it. We need you Geoff, I need you."
Keeping hold of Wat Chaucer manoeuvred back to his chair in front of the fire. Gathering Wat onto his lap he held on until the tempest of tears had past.
"Tell me what happened, Wat." He listened as Wat choked out the events of the last joust between lessening sobs. He sadly described the horror of their little group as the splintering lance had pierced Will’s armour and ended their Knight’s life. Will had died on the field and the healers could do nothing to save him.
Chaucer couldn’t see, tears blinded his eyes and slid silently down his face and he held on to Wat for his own comfort now. He buried his face in Wat’s curly hair. He felt Wat stroke his arms and make murmured sounds of nothing. He felt the small kiss on his chest and he raised his head to look at Wat.
“Will’s gone, Geoff. I have no master now. No reason to stay there and every reason to be here, with you.”
Chaucer nodded and dipped his tear stained face to Wat’s. Their kiss was soft and bittersweet tinged with salty tears. It soothed his fevered grief and gave solace to his heart.
He may have lost his hero and he would grieve forever but here in his arms was his heart’s desire. No matter the reason for that he rejoiced.
Fin
