The Beekeeper

Chapter 9

Early March, 1194

The winter snows were thawing - enough so that the grass, though dormant, could be seen. The air was chilled, but tolerable enough to allow activity outdoors. Their barrels of ale – both Lucas's and Agatha's - were nearly empty, so Lucas put Cassia to the task of starting new batches. She was grateful for the chore, as it was something to be done mostly outdoors. And in doing it, she was hopeful of the prospect of being alone, for she was growing tired of the sick-room – and particularly the patient who had now rediscovered his mobility.

Now that he could move about, Guy was in constant search of something to occupy himself. He had even taken to playing chess and backgammon with Bertram – and it was a strange sight to see them sitting together at a table, gaming for hours. She could still recall the first time she had discovered their strange interaction – via Guy's curses that she had heard from the next room. Apparently, Guy had learned that Bertram was an excellent player of both Chess and Backgammon. It had been an odd thing to witness, indeed.

It was also strange to see Guy dressed in new garments, which Agatha had acquired for him. Now attired in clothes that better befitted his status, it was altogether unsettling to see him moving about as though he was in charge of everything.

Agatha, of course, could always be counted upon to give comment to the matter.

Thinks he is the bloody cock' o the walk now. Smug wanker...

But he was growing restless. He seemed to know that soon, he would be able to walk entirely on his own – and that meant that he would depart their company. In that time, however, he continued his search for something to cure his boredom. And much to Cassia's chagrin, he had grown interested in watching her as she worked.

When she began preparing the ale for brewing, she was not at all surprised when he soon appeared behind her. She ignored him at first, knowing that he was standing in the doorway, watching her. It was not until she heard him make a sound of pain that she turned to look at him. He was leaning on his crutches, trying to pretend that he was perfectly well, when she could clearly see that the effort of standing was difficult for him. She hesitated for a moment – but it was too much to see him in discomfort. Pulling over a nearby chair, she placed it beside him.

"Sit, you fool. It will not do for you to injure yourself further."

Sitting down, he let out a huff. "So, you choose to speak to me directly? After several days of avoiding me?"

Now it was she who huffed. "Against my better judgement," she answered.

He sighed. "You are a daring wench, Cassia. Anyone else who would dare to call me a fool would find themselves in peril."

She wanted to remain benign – unmoved in any way. But being with him, it was impossible. Despite her efforts against it, a smirk formed on her lips.

"Am I not in peril at this moment?"

He snorted. "T'would be a wasted effort to attempt a punishment for you. Methinks you would stir up some spell or manner of mischief to thwart my effort."

Placing her hand on her hip, she looked over at him. "Are you accusing me of being a witch?"

"I have little doubt of it."

"Then why do you not hie yourself up and hobble away back to Nottingham, safely away from we devilish creatures?"

Turning back to the matter of her ale-making, it was a moment before he replied.

"Perhaps I have grown accustomed to living this way - having my needs seen to by a wench who does not know her place."

She fought for a reply. The possibility that he would want to stay was bewildering. In truth, a part of her wished that he was sincere. But her common sense was wiser than her heart, at least at that moment - and she found the courage she needed to answer him, and rather pointedly.