The estate of Gartham could be seem from far, and Walter took notice to it immediately as it came upon his horizon. Miraculously, he still had his horse, and though he had bartered with many of his personal possessions, owned a change of clothes still, as well as a new blanket to keep him warm. He had abandoned the prospect of inns as they were fewer and further between than ever, and therefore overpopulated by pilgrims and ne’er-do-wells. Instead, he became handier each night at setting up a rudimentary camp, and he ate during the day in the few towns he came across that had cook shops.

The last night of his exile between courts, he made camp not far from the city walls of Gartham, and he dreamed of reaching it in the morning, which had been what he had dreamed of for weeks by that point.

Still there was no sign of anyone on his trail. Walter was mostly concerned with his survival, and when he could, his comfort, and not at all with secrecy. When he rode into Gartham the next morning, he was not stopped by the guards but to be asked to pay their fee. A small price to pay for the prospect of home.

He had never noticed that his land of origin was so much colder than Norbury Lake. The landscape, rather than the lush hilltops and valleys full of placid meadows of his most recent residence, were covered in velvet grass, giant oaks, and bald peaks in the distance. The wind blew right through his good clothes and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight.

By this part of his journey, he knew the way. There was no fear in his mind that his old mistress would take him back in an instance, that the princess would be gracious with him and allow him to slip right back into his former anonymity. Though he had always had the name Walter, the way in which Walter was the name on everyone’s lips, his former life may as well be nameless. He did not recall a single person but his family had said his name out loud until William introduced him to Katherine.

Would he miss Katherine? He still had her note and cherished it, kept it dry in his blanket when he was not using it, and slept with it in his hand for fear of it blowing out of his tent. Besides that, he was initially sick with longing for his old life, of which a large part was spent by her side. She was the first woman who ever took notice of him.

Now, on the other side of all that had passed, he could not imagine his future in Norbury Castle. All eventualities led to his demise. He was comfortable, beloved, well-known, and as far from safety as he could be.

Much rather than that, he thought of his life in Gartham as he rode through the town like a king. It was his respite, he imagined, to live fully unaware of the monarchs in the south, their quarrels and trouble, their jealousies.

The only person he would truly miss, was Henry. Though it seemed reasonable that the two of them would grow apart due to aspiring to win the same prize, being Katherine’s attention, they were more like brothers than adversaries. Henry intuitively cared for him in a way he had not experienced in his life. It was to Henry, subsequently, that he felt truly remorseful for leaving. There was no way he could have even said his goodbye. At this point, he was unsure Henry was even alive.

Walter gulped. It was a guilt he would learn to live with, or so he hoped.

He had never entered Gartham House the way the nobles did, and his proximity to them was not enough to make him change that about himself. Instead, he went the winding path behind it, through a forested area, and saw it before him.

At once, he began to weep.

The midday sun beat down on the yellow fields of wheat and the bleached cotton aprons of the women that were carrying the early harvests in them, waddling like ducks across the fields. Small huts and cabins blew steam. Some were in disrepair, as always, and most were lovingly broken in. A few shepherd dogs barked at the livestock as they controlled it, their shepherds sunstained and straw-hatted. Walter could not believe it.

His breath quickened as he made his horse gallop, and he held onto the reins tightly for fear of falling, his eyesight blurred by the significance of it all.

He had been unsure all of his travels, and once he saw it, he knew his questioning was all for nothing. He knew this is where he belonged. He was born and raised here, ripped out of its idyllic landscape against his will, but it was clear he did not belong anywhere else. He vowed to die here, either in the far future or tomorrow.

Quickly he tied the reins to a fence post and made a run for the familiar cabin. It smelled of fresh bread and ale, and he rapped the door hastily. Open, open, open…

The door opened and Walter immediately flew into the arms of the girl who had opened it: ‘Martha!’ he wept. ‘Martha, I’m back!’

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Martha shared Walter’s face but was younger still, and instead of the shoulder length blond curls, had hers in a long braid down her back. She graciously embraced him and wiped away some tears of her own.

‘We thought we’d never see you again,’ she said. ‘That I was down one brother… mother, father! Walter is home!’

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He unpacked his things in the cabin and shared them generously with his family, and only then accepted a bowl of porridge in return while he gloated at seeing his parents and sister enjoy the bits of gold and finery that he managed to hold onto.

‘I should say hello to everyone,’ Walter said, rejuvenated from the plain and wholesome breakfast, the likes of which he had not had in weeks. ‘So they’ll know I’m back. I cannot believe it has been so long.’

‘Well, we’ll be here,’ said Martha. ‘I’ve got to help mother with the loom anyway.’

He stood up and left the cabin, and looked for familiar faces in the fields, when a number of horses could be heard trotting onto the dirt path he was walking on.

He looked up and almost jumped. Princess Lettice — back from the hunt, presumably. Her men were just behind her, carrying the game they had shot.

He never quite realised the resemblance between Lettice and her niece Katherine, and it had not dawned on him even when he became rather close to the latter. But now, with Katherine so recent in his mind, he could not help but be startled.

‘Your Highness,’ he said, more a knee-jerk reaction rather than anything genuine.

Lettice bent her white-blonde head down. ‘What might you be doing here, sir?’

‘I’m… I’m back,’ he began. ‘I’m Walter. Walter Hussey. Back from Norbury Castle.’

She eyed her knights and gestured them to go forth, while Lettice herself dismounted. She gave him a long look and concluded it with a confused frown. ‘I wonder what your master thinks of this, Sir Walter,’ she said. ‘Aren’t you needed down south?’

Did she not know? Walter was afraid to be the bearer of bad news. ‘Not needed,’ he said. ‘Dismissed, in fact.’

‘Strange,’ said Lettice, ‘I imagine William would’ve written me if anything was the matter. And he has not. In fact, he has not written since the royal retinue has moved back to Ilworth. I say, to where it belongs.’

He could not keep up the lie. He sighed miserably, looked at the dirt by her feet, and said it: ‘Lord William was beheaded some months ago. I think your husband chose not to write you until the last possible moment.’

She laughed at first, and held Walter’s shoulder. He looked up into her face, which crept slowly from amusement to terror. ‘Tell me you’re joking,’ she said, with not an ounce of humour.

‘I’m afraid, my lady Lettice, that I cannot tell you so, for I saw it with my own eyes,’ he began. ‘I was present as to be my warning.’

She inhaled through her nose and brought herself to exhale in shocking, hitching breaths. ‘The only man I’ve ever loved,’ she mumbled under her breath. ‘Dead without even a goodbye.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ he offered, putting a cowardly hand over her shoulder as well. ‘If I knew…’

‘Whose order was it?’ she asked viciously. ‘Who is responsible for this?’

Walter gulped. ‘I don’t know, my lady.’

‘Don’t you?’ she asked in that casually dismissive way that Katherine would, too. ‘I think you do, but you don’t want me to write that person. Is that right?’

‘My lady, I have become a fugitive for an innocent accident. I am unsure of who to trust.’

Lettice lucidly looked him in the eyes and began to grin. ‘Why should I be mistrusted, Walter? Have I ever been anything but accommodating of you, in your modest station? You return to me a bonafide lord. You may trust me. I’ll take you inside if you tell me, and I swear that, may your arrest be warranted, you won’t hear a peep from me.’

‘Well…’ he began. ‘I’m afraid it was your husband.’

She clicked her tongue. ‘I’m afraid I saw that coming already. Let’s go inside, Walter. It appears that we have much to discuss.’

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As Lettice watched the servant pour them wine, Walter could not help but ask, ‘Were you serious when you said that Lord William is the only man you had ever loved?’

Lettice chuckled. ‘My darling, you’ve become quite comfortable speaking to those who outrank you this much. Was Lady Katherine so candid to you? Would she have told you?’

‘Yes,’ he said shyly. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No need,’ she said. ‘It’s not strictly true, but I would’ve preferred him to return rather than to die. Love is a strange and fickle bird.’

Walter sniffed. ‘I’m aware, my lady.’

She chuckled and reached over the table they sat at to pinch his cheeks. ‘Sure you do. Well, what are you on the run for? Must I be afraid that you’ll cause a big stir around these parts?’

‘No,’ he said solemnly. ‘It was an accident. I hurt someone important. Maybe even killed him, I can’t be sure — but it was an accident. They put me in house arrest and someone helped me escape. Lady Katherine was behind it. The strange lady who helped me… she told me they were planning to have me put to death as well.’

Lettice grimaced and inhaled through her teeth. ‘Yes, I’d heard the regime has been… feeling a little under the weather, let’s say? Weird executions, a hell of a fall in parliament, a broken-off engagement. I say, before this year is out, little Walter, Katherine will just be some girl again, my husband will come home from Norbury Lake for good, and Pippa will be on the throne. I can’t imagine this going on for another few decades, can you? She’s only sat there for two years, and we have all collectively aged twenty years. My goodness.’

‘May I stay here?’ he asked innocently. ‘Can I be safe?’

She huffed. ‘Of course!’ she exclaimed. ‘In fact, while Cuthbert is away, feel free to resume your life as a courtier. Do you have any interests you’d like to pursue? I’ll accommodate them for you. It’s the least I can do — not for you, necessarily, but if I can poke the eyes out of the people that put William to death, I’d bankrupt myself over it in an instant!’

‘Love is a strange and fickle bird,’ Walter repeated breathlessly.

‘You’ve got it,’ said Lettice. ‘Welcome to Gartham House. I don’t anticipate you will find anything unbecoming about it, but if you may, feel free to ask for me. Whatever you do, tell anyone and everyone your story. It’s important that people learn the extent of the cruelty. My daughter Philippa would never be caught dead executing her courtiers — spread the word.’