Happily Ever After

Part Four

Last time we visited our medieval universe, James had arrived at Ten Acres Castle. We learned that his mother, Lady Katryne, married Lord Kobus Jones after the death of her husband. Upon his arrival at Ten Acres, James met Master Brom Vanderheidenbeck, chamberlain to Lord James; Mistress Geertruyde Vanderpoel, chambermaid to the deceased Lady Neeltje, now serving Lord James; and Master Lyttle, who is the royal steward. At the end of Part Three, James awaited permission to enter his uncle’s private quarters. And now, The Cameo presents Part Four of Happily Ever After…

Chapter Seven

After what seemed an eternity, Master Lyttle emerged from the private chambers of Lord James. “Lord James sanctions James the Second to enter,” Master Lyttle replied sternly, his noise stuck in the air.

Geertruyde smugly glanced at the steward as she stepped toward the door. “I told you the lord would desire an assemblage with his nephew. Come along, James.”

Master Lyttle hindered her entrance to the lord’s private chambers. “Halt, m’lady,” he sneered, his grimace belying his polite tone. “Lord James bequeathed permission for his nephew to enter. I do not think the presence of a chambermaid would be welcome. My lord wishes to speak with young James alone.”

Geertruyde slightly stiffened, but soon relaxed and kindly patted James on the shoulder. “Aye,” she agreed. “’Tis best that this first encounter with your uncle be private. No need for outsiders to be privy to this moment. I shall wait here for you, lad.”

James nodded and smiled his gratitude to Geertruyde. As he stepped closer to the entrance of his uncle’s secluded chamber, Master Lyttle began to enter, as well. James placed a firm hand upon the older gentleman’s shoulder. “As I recall, you said that Uncle wished to speak with me alone.”

“I beg your pardon, but I do not think Lord James wished to exclude me,” Master Lyttle replied indignantly. “After all, I am the royal seneschal.”

“Leave the lad and his uncle alone, you old gossipmonger!” Geertruyde chided. “This is their first assemblage. Grant them the bliss of having this moment alone.”

Master Lyttle fairly shook with anger. “It would be wise for you to mind your own business, Mistress Geertruyde. Be off, and tend to your duties. ‘Tis my responsibility, as the lord’s steward, to oversee all Lord James’ bailiwicks, and I intend to perform my duty.”

James’ green eyes blazed with intensity. He stepped closer to Lyttle. “Likewise, it would be wise for you to mind your own business, Master Lyttle,” he whispered in a serious tone, pointing his finger in the old man’s face.

The old man cowered in fright. The Frayne temper was infamous, if not legendary. Silently, Lyttle moved away from the door. With a curt nod, James deftly entered and closed the door behind him.

Lord James’ private quarters were simply, yet elegantly, furnished. A fireplace graced the northern wall. The eastern wall had a door leading to a private oratory. In the middle of the room, Lord James rested upon a large, elaborately carved bed with gauzy curtains hanging from the canopied top. James nervously approached his uncle’s resting place and pulled away the drapery at the head of the bed with a trembling hand.

James knelt by the bedside. “Uncle?” he inquired softly, as to not alarm the old man.

The frail figure upon the bed opened his eyes and attempted to raise himself. “James, is that you, my boy?” Lord James questioned in a weak voice. He held out his skeletal hand to his nephew.

“Aye,” James answered tearfully as he grasped his uncle’s hand gently in his own strong one. “I rejoice to finally meet you, Uncle James. Father oft-times spoke of you fondly.”

Lord James smiled wearily. “The Lord did not bestow children upon Neeltje and me, but He did have pity upon us and blessed us with a fine nephew. I loved Wynthrop as a son. We spent many happy hours together, until the wars forced us to forego our visits.”

James nodded sadly. “Yes, Father always regretted that you lost contact with one another.”

Lord James studied the ruddy youth before him. “Verily, you are the image of Wynthrop, my lad.” He tenderly ruffled his nephew’s thick russet hair.

“Aye,” James agreed, a most charming, lopsided grin upon his handsome face. “Mother always told me that the resemblance between Father and me was astounding.”

“Ah, sweet Katryne,” Lord James murmured. “How is your lovely mother?”

“Mother passed away several years ago,” James replied sorrowfully.

The smile disappeared from Lord James’ face. “That saddens me greatly, Nephew. Your mother was a beautiful lady in spirit, as well as in appearance. If I had only known, I could have brought you here with me to dwell in Sleepyside.”

James gently squeezed his aged uncle’s hand. “That would have pleased me greatly, Uncle. However, I have been well-tended. Since Mother’s passing, I have been the ward of my stepfather, Kobus Jones.”

“Kobus Jones?” Lord James repeated disbelievingly. “Surely you jest.”

“Nay, Uncle. ‘Tis no falsehood. Do have you prior knowledge of the man?” James heart beat rapidly. Perhaps his uncle could answer the many questions he had wondered of late.

“Kobus Jones of the Albany kingdom?” Lord James clarified.

“’Tis the same man,” James explained. “Only, he is lord of the province now, and has been erst the great rebellion.”

“That scoundrel is lord?” Lord James asked in surprise.

James nodded, eager for more information. If his father was any judge of character, this uncle was an honorable man whose opinion could be trusted. “Aye, my stepfather reigns in the Albany kingdom,” James explained. “Likewise, he rules in Rochester until I assume the throne upon my eighteenth birthday.”

Lord James trembled, although from anger or fright, his nephew knew not. “Thereafter, Kobus intends to relinquish the crown, back to the house of Frayne, of his own volition?” Skepticism dripped from Lord James’ voice.

“Yes,” his nephew answered. “Mother arranged it before their marriage. I am of a surety that my stepfather will hold true to his word. He is, after all, a man of honor.” James held his breath for his uncle’s response.

James’ statement seemed to bring a new fire to his uncle’s once feeble eyes. “Kobus Jones cannot be trusted, James,” Lord James declared. “I do not believe he will hand over the wardship of the Rochester province of his own accord.

“I knew this knave, Kobus, many years hitherto, and found him to be quite a disreputable rogue. Is he aware that you have come here?” Lord James gasped for breath after such a lengthy speech. He clutched his heart as if to steady his breathing.

“Aye, it is he who sent me upon this quest,” James offered. “He heard rumors of an insurrection plot here in the Sleepyside kingdom, and thought it was my duty, as heir to the throne of Sleepyside, to investigate. He claims to be quite concerned for your well-being, Uncle.”

Lord James spat contemptuously. “The only concern Kobus has is for himself. Indeed, I have heard the gossip, and it would not surprise me to find that Lord Jones is the culprit behind it all.”

James gasped. Hereunto, the young man had perceived his stepfather was less than honorable. However, James had never suspected that he was part of the conspiracy. “Surely, you jest, Uncle. Have you not heard of my stepfather’s bravery in battle? Or perhaps of his generosity to the people of the Albany province? Or perchance, you have heard of the wisdom with which he has executed judgment?”

“Kobus Jones is a murderous traitor,” Lord James snarled. “He is a scoundrel worthy of death.”

“You must be mistaken, Uncle,” James insisted. Perhaps, my suspicions were correct, he mused. “My stepfather is no scoundrel,” James replied aloud, trying to convince himself rather than his uncle. “He is an honorable man. Upon his marriage to Mother, Lord Jones raised me as his own son.”

“James, my boy, you are no son of that knave,” Lord James growled. “I know not how that ruffian acquired the throne of Albany, but I assure you, it was not by reputable nor honorable means.”

“Perhaps you are confused, Uncle,” James suggested hopefully. “Truly, ‘tis must be another Kobus Jones of whom you speak.”

Lord James’ green eyes blazed as brightly as his nephew’s had earlier. “I am not mistaken, nor am I confused. Kobus Jones was a soldier in the Albany province. He served in close proximity to the previous lord. According to rumor, he was responsible for the uprising in that kingdom by poisoning the mind of the commanders closest to the lord.

“Kobus’ confederacy caused a civil war in his homeland. In swaying the commanding officers, he made it impossible for the loyalists to gain victory. The loyalists were led by inexperienced soldiers, and were greatly outnumbered. However, they fought for their lord with valor until death overcame them all.

“After the war in the Albany province began, battles in my own land prohibited me from assisting the lord of Albany. The last bit of news we received from Albany was that the former lord had met his demise in a major skirmish there. I never heard who claimed the throne. I should have known it would be Jones. All these years, I had rather hoped Jones had met his demise on the battlefield, and the vultures had disposed of his loathsome remains.” After his emotional speech, Lord James’ breathing became labored and his countenance grew deathly pale.

“Search your heart, James,” he finally continued with ragged breaths. “You must needs learn the truth, no matter how despicable it may be.”

James stared at his uncle in disbelief. Part of him wanted to dismiss his uncle’s words as the ramblings of a foolish old man. Unfortunately, in the depths of James’ heart, he had already come to these same conclusions before he had even set out on this journey. Seeds of doubt had niggled at his conscious for quite some time now. However, while relieved his suspicions were merited, the realization brought pain to his heart.

“Please rest, Uncle,” James asked, trying to hide the disappointment which he felt. He grasped his uncle’s shoulders and helped him to sit upright. Spying a pitcher of water upon the stand next to the bed, James poured some in a silver chalice. “Drink this, Uncle James,” he pleaded, holding the goblet to the elderly man’s lips.

Lord James complied. After several moments, his shallow breathing became more regular. “I do not mean to sound harsh, Nephew. I am only concerned for your safety and well-being. I fear that Kobus Jones is not the man you perceive him to be.”

James helped his uncle lie back down and wrapped the fur-skinned blanket about him. “For quite some time now, I have doubted the validity of my stepfather’s claims of veracity. Your words strengthen my resolve to speak with my stepfather regarding these matters immediately upon my return to the Albany province. As much as I love my stepfather, I am a greater lover of truth.”

“Do you think it wise to approach Kobus regarding these matters?” Lord James questioned. “Kobus is a devious man. If he finds he no longer has your allegiance, he may harm you.”

James set his rugged jaw in determination. His emerald green eyes blazed a fire hot enough to meld steel. “So be it,” he affirmed stubbornly. “I am of the House of Frayne, and we do not cower to blackguards.”

Those words seemed to please Lord James. “How long do you intend to sojourn in Sleepyside?” he asked. Secretly, he hoped his nephew would permanently leave the Albany province behind and remain in Sleepyside henceforth. Not only did he desire his nephew’s company, he thought it hazardous for the young man to return to Jones.

“I cannot say of a surety, Uncle,” James replied honestly. “However, I must admit that this land holds a certain charm lacking in my own kingdom.” James expression grew wistful as he remembered blue eyes and sandy curls. “Uncle, what know you of the landowners southeast of here? They reside in a cottage nestled amongst the crabapple trees.”

Lord James thoughtfully stroked his chin. “’Tis the Belden clan of whom you speak. Master Pieter Belden is a most honorable man. He is not wealthy, nor of noble descent, but he is well-respected. He runs the baker’s shop in town. Why do you ask?”

“On my way here, I met his daughter in the forest,” James answered. “The damsel had been captured by scoundrels. I rescued the fair maiden and chased away the ruffians. If it had not been for my concern for the lass, I would have shown the blokes what we honorable Fraynes do to those who harm beautiful ladies.”

“And was this Belden maiden beautiful?” Lord James asked, slightly amused.

“Quite,” James whispered.

Lord James carefully studied his nephew. The fond look on the young man’s face closely resembled the look on Wynthrop’s face when he had spoken of Katryne years ago. “Beatrix, I believe the damsel’s name is.” James looked up at his uncle in surprise. “I know the name of every citizen of fair Sleepyside,” Lord James added proudly. “Perchance, will you see this maiden again during your sojourn?”

His nephew gazed out the southwest window and nodded his head. “Aye, if I have my way, I will verily be seeing the sweet Beatrix anon.”

“And what does this fair damsel look like?” Lord James asked, his faded green eyes dancing in amusement.

“She is the loveliest maiden I have ever laid eyes upon,” James declared earnestly. “Her eyes are the color of the sky on the clearest of days. Her skin appears to be porcelain of the highest quality. Her hair is the color of the sunshine on the brightest of days. Her smile has the power to vanquish an army of a thousand trained fighters.”

“She sounds beautiful, indeed,” Lord James commented with a smile.

James nodded. “My heart skips in its beating at the mere recollection of her face. Uncle, do you believe in love at first sight?”

Lord James closed his eyes and remembered a lovely maiden with cornflower blue eyes and golden ringlets. “Aye. I knew from the first moment I saw my Neeljte that I would love her as long as there was breath in my body.”

“My father said the same thing about Mother,” James quietly replied. “I never fully understood his words. ‘Til now, that is.”

“And does this damsel return your affection?”

“I do not know,” James answered. “I intend to see her again before I depart these lands.”

Lord James gripped his nephew’s hand as tightly as he could. “You are not leaving yet, are you, my boy?”

“Nay, Uncle,” James answered, noticing how weary the elderly gentlemen appeared. He lovingly squeezed his uncle’s hand before releasing it. “You must rest. You are quite weary from all of the excitement. I will return to see you at dawn’s first light.” He kissed his uncle upon his brow.

As James departed, his uncle felt at peace for the first time in months. Lord James breathed a sigh of relief before falling into a deep slumber. Hope had returned to Sleepyside.

Chapter Eight

James slept fitfully that night. Though the guest chambers were luxurious, he could not find solace in sleep. His uncle’s words haunted his thoughts. For a season James had worried that his stepfather was not the honorable man he portrayed himself to be. Uncle James’ words merely affirmed his speculations.

True to his word, at morning’s first light, James dressed and made his way to his uncle’s quarters. Master Lyttle curtly nodded and grimly stepped away from the door, allowing James entrance.

“Uncle, are you awake?” James asked, sticking his head through the doorway.

“Aye, my lad,” Lord James answered in a weak voice. He held out a trembling hand for his nephew to clasp.

“Did your slumber bring you rest?” James inquired, gently taking his uncle’s hand in his own.

“Aye,” Lord James answered. “Did you find the guest’s quarters comfortable?”

“They were highly satisfactory, Uncle,” James answered. He had resided in the chambers above the great hall, which was reserved for special guests. If he had not been haunted by his gnawing fears, James would have felt highly at ease in the luxurious lodgings.

The guest’s chambers had been quite comfortable, with a small writing desk against one wall, a chaise, upholstered with a fine fabric, against another wall and the Frayne coat of arms on another. Vert banners, resplendent in the forest green heraldry of the Fraynes, hung from the ceiling. A heavy, wooden bed graced the middle of the room, snug and warm with its luxurious fur-skinned coverlet.

James had been surprised at the splendor of the visitor’s quarters. They rivaled the lord’s private chambers in the Albany castle. His stepfather had oft boasted about the wealth of his kingdom, but after seeing the castle of Ten Acres, James wondered if Kobus’ reports were trustworthy.

Worry made the wrinkles on Lord James’ face more prominent. “You do not intend to leave me forthwith, do you, my boy?” he asked in a tremulous voice.

“Hitherto, I seek the truth regarding the rumors of rebellion,” James replied. “I shall trek into town today and speak with the local citizens regarding this gossip. I am quite curious to decipher its veracity.”

A twinkle appeared in Lord James’ faded green eyes. “May I recommend a stopover in the baker’s shop?”

James chuckled. “I never imagined you to be a matchmaker, Uncle.”

“I only hoped you might find an opportune moment in which you could sample Mistress Helena’s pastries. They are exquisite,” Lord James replied innocently.

“I plan to visit all the local mercers,” James said with a lopsided grin. “Perchance, I shall have the fortune of seeing the beauteous Beatrix again today.”

“Honestly, Nephew, I do not believe the maiden labors in her parents’ shop. She remains at the Beldens’ cottage to keep a hawk’s eye upon her youngest sibling. Rubertus, I believe the lad’s name is.”

James scratched his chin thoughtfully. “And does Beatrix have any other kinsmen of whom I should be aware?”

“Aye, Beatrix has three brethren. The eldest is an apprentice studying under the local apothecary. Bryan is a rather serious-minded young man, with great potential. He served as the royal page when he was a wee boy. Bryan was a favorite of my dear Neeltje. We had hoped he would complete his training to be a knight; however, the lad had his heart set upon studying the apothecary’s trade.

“Maarten is the family’s middle son. He assists his family in their baker’s shop, though I have heard he often consumes the profits. Quite a wordsmith, that lad is. His charm and wit are renowned in the land.

“Rubertus is the youngest child. Mischief frequently finds that boy. Several times, he has been found wandering about the outskirts of the castle, in search of his dog. However, I have not heard of any such altercations with young Rubertus for some time. Perhaps, he has received the rod enough that his mischief has ceased.”

James smiled. “The Beldens sound like a delightful family. I should very much like to make their acquaintance.”

“You know, my boy, it would be quite simple to make a brief visit to the Beldens’ cottage upon your return from town,” Lord James suggested. “Perchance you could ascertain Beatrix’s safe return from the forest, day before.”

James grinned and nodded his head. “Methinks that is a brilliant suggestion, Uncle. I would be greatly disappointed if I did not see the fair Beatrix before I returned to Albany.” James expression grew melancholy. “Though, I fear if I see her face once more, I shall never be able to leave her side.”

“And would that be so unfortunate?” Lord James queried.

“My stepfather would never approve of such a union,” James explained forlornly.

“Bah!” exclaimed Lord James. “What does that scoundrel know of love?”

“I fear he knows nothing regarding love,” James whispered, mainly to himself. “Lord Jones has urged me of late to take a bride of noble blood,” James answered aloud. “His brother, Sjang Jones, is searching for a worthy suitor for his wife’s daughter, Lady Janneke. My stepfather is anxious that I make Janneke’s acquaintance, though I perceive ‘tis because of her sizable dowry.”

Lord James frowned. “And what of love? There are things of greater importance than bloodlines and dowries.”

James looked up at his uncle hopefully. “Uncle, would you approve if I took a bride from amongst the commoners?”

“If you loved her, I would rejoice. My fondest wish for you, Nephew, is that you find a bride you will cherish above all others, as I cherished my dear Neeltje. From amongst the mercers’ shops or from amongst the great halls, I care not. If this Beatrix brings you joy, I give you my blessing.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” James replied softly. “I am quickly learning that one’s heart is an unstoppable force, greater than any other.”

“Aye,” Lord James agreed.

A brusque knock echoed upon the heavy door leading to Lord James’ private chambers. Master Lyttle entered, holding a silver tray laden with a pitcher of water, as well as a small bottle.

“Greetings, Lord James,” Master Lyttle saluted. He sat down the tray and bowed in obeisance to the lord. “Many pardons for interrupting you, however, ‘tis time for your potion. If we are ever to have the privilege of seeing your triumphant return to the throne, you must take the medication provided by the apothecary.”

Master Lyttle hurriedly poured some water from the pitcher into Lord James’ silver chalice. He solicitously assisted Lord James to a seated position, then helped him drink the green substance in the tiny bottle. After the potion was consumed, he quickly held the chalice to Lord James’ lips.

“Blasted medicine!” Lord James protested, after taking a large drink of water. “You would think the apothecary could find something more tantalizing to the taste buds!”

“Ah, my lord, ‘twill be worth it when you are well,” Master Lyttle placated. His hands trembled as he saw James study him critically. “If you need nothing else, I shall go, my liege. I have many duties to which I must attend.”

“Be gone, Steward. I wish to speak with my nephew privately,” Lord James commanded.

Master Lyttle nodded, and with a curt bow to Lord James and a loathsome glare to James the Second, he picked up the tray and left.

After several minutes, Lord James motioned for his nephew to draw nigh. “I am old and weak, my son,” he gasped. “I fear I shall soon depart to my ancestors.”

James tenderly gripped his uncle’s hand. “Do not say that. Only recently have I met you. I do not wish to bid you adieu so hastily.”

“My heart is complete to have finally seen your face,” Lord James whispered. “I can at last depart this life knowing that the throne of Sleepyside will be safeguarded by you, Nephew. As much as I desire your companionship here, you are correct to first return to Albany and confront Kobus.”

“Perhaps we shall go to our fore bearers together, Uncle. Upon my inquisition, my stepfather will execute me immediately,” James told his uncle. “I care not for myself, but I worry for the well-being of Rochester and Sleepyside.”

“In no wise make Kobus aware that you are privy to his scheming,” Lord James instructed. “Regardless of your findings in town, report to Kobus that you have found peace in Sleepyside, and that all subjects remain loyal to me. I fear if your stepfather learns of the rebellion, he will send his mercenaries at once to attack the castle.”

James narrowed his eyes. “Uncle, do you believe that Lord Jones is behind the rumors in Sleepyside?”

“I am sorry, James, but that is exactly what I hold to be true. I fear this goodwill mission is, in all actuality, an attempt to learn if attack from Albany should come now or if, perhaps, he should wait for a more convenient season.”

James hung his head sorrowfully. “I came to you for truth, Uncle. I do not wish for you to be correct; however, I hear the ring of truth in each syllable. Do you have any further instructions for me?”

“Be vigilant, my son,” Lord James advised. “Do not fall prey to his flatteries. He may attempt to sway you with whitewashed sentiments. Be assured that every word from his mouth has a purpose. Kobus may claim to have your best interests at heart, but his soul is vile. He will not relinquish the throne of Rochester without a fight. I shudder to imagine the evil notions he has devised in his greed.

“I will send word at once to the troops in Rochester. They were loyal to your father, and they will pledge their allegiance to you, as well. I shall command them to be assembled and ready to fight, if necessary.

“After you have spoken with Kobus, immediately depart to Rochester and secure the castle there. Be patient, for Kobus’ attack may not be imminent. He may seek the advantage of surprise.

“I desire to send my soldiers as added security; however, I am hesitant to lessen the armaments here. If you are in need of reinforcements, send an emissary, and Sleepyside will come to your aide post haste.”

“Aye,” James solemnly answered. “I shall follow your instructions, Uncle James.” He began to move away, but Lord James reached out and clutched his arm, drawing him near once more.

“May I make one further request, James?”

“Of course,” James replied.

“If perchance you hear of my passing while you are away, please return and secure the throne. I do not want my rule to be passed on to any man other than you. I have given confidential orders to my highest ranking soldiers that the heir to my throne shall produce my silver chalice as evidence that he is indeed to rule in my stead.”

Lord James used his nephew’s strong shoulder as support, and feebly rose up in his bed. With a trembling hand, he picked up the silver goblet from the table by his bed and handed it to James. “Keep this silver cup close to you at all times. ‘Tis the proof necessary for claiming the throne of Sleepyside. My soldiers will only allow the man possessing this chalice to reign.”

“Thank you, Uncle.” James reverently held the silver cup in his hands.

“Forthwith, be off. Attend you to your matters. And may the Lord bless you and keep you, and make His face to smile upon you.” Lord James kissed his nephew upon the forehead. “Godspeed, my son.”

“I shall return to you, Uncle,” James said, his voice slightly choking.

“We shall meet again. Whether in this life, or beyond, I know not,” James replied, a peaceful smile upon his weathered face. “At this time, I must rest. Take courage, James.” The old man lay back in his bed and closed his eyes.

James tenderly kissed his uncle’s forehead, hid the silver cup under his surcote, and crept silently to the door. With a final look at his beloved uncle, James opened the door and left.

Meanwhile…

The dark cloaked figure howled and overturned the table holding the crystal ball. “Ruined! Ruined!” he cried. “All of my beautifully devious plans ruined!” He wailed in agony and clutched his thinning hair.

Suddenly, the deranged fire in his eye transformed to a devious twinkle. “But wait! Surely, I can use this news to my advantage. All is not lost.”

The cloaked man sat at his writing table and procured a quill from the inkhorn which sat atop the desk. He placed a parchment upon the top of the table and hurriedly scrawled his orders upon the delicate page. He carefully folded the parchment thrice and dropped molten wax from the flaming candle upon the crease. Finally, he applied his official seal to the hot wax, leaving his unmistakable mark upon the manuscript.

The cloaked man discreetly exited his secret room. No other person knew of this dank chamber located in the deepest recesses of the castle. He had discovered it one day, quite by accident. And in this secluded room, he plotted and planned.

He made his way down the hall. Though his form was frail, his mere presence produced fear in the hearts of all who crossed him. Spying the men for whom he searched, he pulled them aside. “Send emissaries at once to meet Richardus and Lodewijk, and present them these orders. Relay to our noble wights that if they successfully complete this mission, I shall overlook their past failing.”

The soldiers bowed low and scurried off to do their master’s bidding.

The cloaked man chuckled evilly, his thoughts upon a damsel with china blue eyes and sandy ringlets.

Continue to Part Five…

Author’s notes:

As always, I must begin with a huge thank you to Kaye and Kathy. I made many silly mistakes in this one, so I’m thankful for such diligent editors! *G*

Kaye, I’m so thankful for your knowledge regarding the rules of grammar! And a big thank you to George for his suggestion! *G* Now, he’s officially been mentioned in the credits of a fanfic! You probably noticed that there was one of your suggestions that I didn’t take. I wanted Beatrix to keep knocking people dead with her smile. *wink*

Kathy, thank you for your brilliance in uncovering potholes in my plot! Your suggestions make the story so much better in the end. Thank you, very much!

I truly enjoyed writing this chapter, featuring Lord James the First. As I’ve written in the author’s notes of “The Secret of the Other Mansion,” Uncle James is modeled after my dear grandfather, who is currently having health troubles. The character of Uncle James is near to my heart, so I enjoy bringing him back from the dead in these alternate universe stories.

I have studied the middle ages till my head hurt, so I hope I got the descriptions accurate.

There were several references to the books in here. I know you all probably caught the christening cup reference, although I did not call it such. But I knew you would all know what I was talking about! Also, did you catch the appearance by the fake Juliana? She was never given a name, so I called her the Dutch form of ‘Janie’.

You medieval history lesson for the day is that a “surcote” is: An outer coat or garment, commonly of rich material, worn by people of rank of both sexes; often worn by armed men over their armor, and having the heraldic arms displayed on it. It can come with or without sleeves.

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