Jocelyn's POV ***

 

Even though it was late, Jocelyn was yet to take off her clothes. She had seen the Count of Anjou ride in with his horse earlier, and was probably talking with her father. In a short while, they’d come to summon her after making their decision over her.

 

She walked slowly to the huge bed in the middle of the room and sat on the edge . Her face was painted the fiery gold of the candle flames dancing from chandelier and sticks all over the concrete wall. Sometimes, it felt like she was a prisoner, bound behind walls of concrete and covered in silk and fine linen. A noble prisoner with privileges but nonetheless a prisoner.

 

Yet, she knew it for sure that all men were prisoners. All that differed from fellow to fellow was the type of hold that pinned them down, and compared to others, hers was a fairer choice.

 

A gentle knock sounded on the door.

 

“Come in,” said Jocelyn. Her face was void of all expressions, but there was a calm on it.

 

The door creaked open and Christiana, Jocelyn’s handmaid stepped inside the room.

 

“Your father requests your presence, my lady,” said Christiana.

 

“Oh,” Jocelyn exclaimed, throwing her chin up. She rose from the bed, started out of the room and stopped at the door. “And I know it was Count Adhemar that asked for me. Thank you all the same, Christiana.”

 

The door closed behind Jocelyn with a soft click sound. She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath and when she opened them again, they were full of resolution, or in a less grand affair, acceptance.

 

She could make out the hearty laugh of her father, Lord Grove of Makinburg. The small chuckle of Count Adhemar, almost like a wicked snigger after an equally wicked prank.

 

“… and I asked him if he’s forgotten his name because it was such a mouthful. Poor country knights are ruining the nobility of knighthood and the prestige of the joust,” Adhemar said.

 

“Hmm,” nodded Lord Grove, “I’ve heard that he’s topping the scoreboard at sword-fight too.”

 

Jocelyn halted a short distance from the archway that led to the dinning hall where the man boomed in loud, half drunk voices.

 

“Anyone can win a sword-fight,” said Adhemar, dismissively. “What men excel at is joust. Only the best, geniuses can win at that. And it’s easy to see this in the setup of armies. The calvary is always the core of the armies strength, spears behind, and swordsmen next.”

 

“Ah, that’s true,” said Lord Grove, if nothing else he knew the count to be a genius at warfare so it wasn't in him to question his analysis. “Jocelyn! What are you standing there like that for? Come on here, Count Adhemar has been long in waiting.”

 

Jocelyn stepped into the hall dining and bowed at her father.

 

“Sit, my dear,” Lord Grove said, gesturing towards the seat on his side.

 

“She looks beautiful,” said Count Adhemar, “Makinburg never fails to produce the fairest maidens in all the countries.”

 

Lord Grove burst into laughter at this. “That is true,” said he, combing his white, thick beards with a hand.

 

“Of course, it is,” said Count Adhemar, “every noble thinks of Makinburg first when it comes to women. Tell me, Jocelyn, do you consider your beauty a curse or a blessing?”

 

“I suppose it depends on the beholder,” said Jocelyn.

 

Count Adhmar bobbed his head pensively. “I am the beholder, so, do you consider your beauty a curse or a blessing?”

 

Jocelyn looked away from the Count and locked stares with her father. Her eyes were melting with tears that dared not fall, and… pleading.

 

“If it is Count Adhemar, then what lady would not be pleased?” said Jocelyn, shrugging. “I consider my beauty a blessing if it holds your attention.”

 

Count Adhemar chuckled. “That was easy,” said he, wrapping his hand round a brass goblet. “I expected a bit of a resistance. Your father, Lord Grove, has offered your hand to me in marriage and I intend to accept.”

 

Jocelyn bit her tongue at this. She felt a red, hot heat spread all over her face.

 

“I should take my leave,” said Count Adhemar, rising. “Lord Grove, you truly are the master of your own kingdom.”

 

Lord Grove nodded at Count Adhemar and the Count took his leave.

 

A candle had burnt to nearly half its original length before Lord Grove took his seat. Slowly he went down, like a man with an arrow wound in the back.

 

He sighed and clasped both hands in his hands.

 

“You told me you had a plan to save us,” said Jocelyn. Her eyes were fixed on a bowl of green and red apples.

 

“I did,” Lord Grove said.

 

“You also said the plan would not involve marrying me off,” Jocelyn continued.

 

Lord Grove merely bobbed his head.

 

“Count Adhemar said that you offered me to him like some collateral, that’s what I am, is it not? You give him your daughter, and get the money to settle our debts.”

 

“I am trying to secure a future for you,” said Lord Grove, “and at the same time, saving our city. We are important to the king, our enemies will laugh if they find out we can’t pay our debts.”

 

“Nobody has ever died from an enemy’s laughter, why not ask the king for help?” pleaded Jocelyn.

 

“But lords perish from the shame thereafter,” said Lord Grove ignoring her plead for even he could not bring himself to answer. Asking the king for aid and being rejected would destroy not only his pride but his house too as it would demonstrate to everyone he did not have the king's support, Jocelyn deep down knew this too.

 

“Listen to me, Jocelyn. I know this is hard for you, but Count Adhemar is a good man, he’ll take care of you. Consider this your duty to the family.”

 

“This cross is too heavy,” said Jocelyn, sniffing.

 

Lord Grove reached over and put a hand on Jocelyn’s. “You should know I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

 

“I know,” said Jocelyn, wiping a rogue tear tracing down her face.

 

“Your marriage to Count Adhemar will determine if this family will have a future of glory or shame. Consider this your sacrifice, your share of the burden.”

 

Jocelyn rose to her feet. “Very well, father,” she said. “I’ll do as you have asked and fulfill my duty to my house.”

 

She pulled her hand away from under her father’s hand and returned to her room. And when she hit there, she broke down in tears.