Humming to herself, Rebecca set about packing sandwiches and juice for Lance and his father to take with them. James was already up getting the horses ready. Once she was finished with the lunch, she wiped her hands and walked down the hallway to wake her son. Quietly opening the door, she smiled at the sight of the still sleeping Lance, his head just barely above the covers. Sitting on the bed, she gently touched his shoulder.

"Lansten?" she whispered ever so quietly. "Angel?"

Moaning, Lance turned over and slowly opened his eyes, smiling at his mother. "Mama," he whispered, reaching out his arms to hug her.

Smiling, Rebecca leaned forward and filled her sons' arms. "Did you sleep well?" she asked, her own arms circling her son.

"Yes, Mama," Lance replied.

Pulling away, she nodded as she motioned towards the kitchen. "Would you like breakfast first, or should I draw your bath?"

"Mama, I can draw my own bath," Lance replied. "I'll have breakfast afterward."

Shaking her head, Rebecca stood and smiled back down at Lance. "I know you can draw your own bath Lansten. I've watched you do such. But Lord Joseph told you to rest and rest is what you shall do."

"But...but Mama..." Lance tried to protest, but his mother silenced him.

"You're to rest for now Lance," Rebecca started. "You have a long day of helping your father harvest the orchards ahead of you." With a wide smile, she could not help but emit a quiet laugh at her sons' expression.

Sighing, Lance lowered his head. "Yes, Mama," Lance agreed.

"That is, unless you would rather not be climbing up the trees and crawling along the branchs," Rebecca replied. "I thought you would be thrilled that you be allowed to help your father, but if you would rather sit at the base of the trees..."

Looking up, Lance realized what his mother had said. "You...you mean I...I may be allowed to help?"

Answering with a nod, Rebecca explained, "I realized last night, after your father and I retired to our room, that I had done to you what the villagers had done as well. I did not mean to treat you any differently than before Lansten, and I am sorry." Coming to sit on the edge of his bed, she looked him in the eyes. "Do you forgive me?"

Hugging his mother, Lance's eyes filled with tears. "Than...thank you, Mama. There's nothing to be forgiven."

Sniffling, Rebecca returned the hug quickly, then pulled away. Wipping a few tears, she laughed. "Look at us. I should be drawing your bath and prepairing your breakfast, where as you should be resting for a few minutes more." Standing and dropping a light kiss upon Lances' forehead, she whispered, "Rest for now Angel. I will come and help you soon."

"Yes, Mama," Lance said snuggling back under the covers as he sneezed.

"Bless you Lansten," Rebecca asked as she whipped around. "Are you alright?" Remembering back to when Lance had been a child, Rebecca came over and felt his forehead. As a child, whenever he sneezed, it was a sure sign he was coming down with a fever, as small as it may be.

"Yes, Mama, I...I...achoo," Lance sneezed again. Concerned, Rebecca felt Lance's forehead. Just as she suspected, it was warm.

Pulling the covers close to his chin, Rebecca shook her head. "You have a little fever Lansten," she explained. "Perhaps it's better if you not go with your father today."

"Bu...but Mama..." Lance protested as he sneezed a third time.

"That's it Lance," Rebecca said, her voice stern. "We do not want you to get sick. Perhaps tomorrow, your fever will break and you can help your father then."

"But...please Mama...I want to help Papa...please," Lance begged, on the verge of tears.

Standing in the door, James saw what was happening, and shook his head. "I'm sorry Son, but you are staying in bed today."

"There Lance," Rebecca whispered. "Even your father says for you to stay in bed. Tomorrow, you will be able to help him tomorrow."

"But...I...I," Lance tried to protest, but his mother put a finger to his lips.

"Lansten, do not argue with us."

Hanging his head, Lance said nothing as he laid his head back onto the pillow, the tears beginning to spill over.

Shooting her son an understanding look that went unnoticed, Rebecca smoothed back his hair before she stood and left the room, closing his door, but not completely. "James, can we spare a few apples from the orchard?" she whispered as they walked back down the hall.

James looked at his wife, a confused look on his face. "Of course," he replied. "What do you have in mind?"

Linking her arm with her husbands', she answered, "You know how much Lance loved sneaking little bites from the apples I would cut up to make pies with, or can for perserves. He hardly has the chance now to taste them, now that he's at Herfordshire. I was hoping we could spare a few, so that I could make some perserves for him to take back home."

"That's a wonderful idea, honey," James replied, beaming. "I will bring the ripest ones from the orchards."

Smiling, she kissed his cheek and whispered, "Save some for the market too. The ripe ones might fetch us a good deal this year."

"I will, my love," James replied, picking up the lunch Rebecca had made as he walked out to the barn. "Take care of our son. I will see you this evening."

"Be careful," she called back, watching him from the doorway. "Take Thomas with you too James...to ease my nerves."

"I'm right here, ma'am," Thomas replied, waiting for James.

Smiling and nodding, Rebecca asked that Thomas not let her husband do anything foolish like climbing a tree just to get a few more apples. "He need not break his neck for a few more gold coins," she teased. "Be safe you two."

"We will," James replied, kissing his wife as he mounted his horse. "Take care".

Rebecca watched as James and Thomas rode off toward the orchards, then turned and walked back into the house and to Lance's room. Opening the door, she was alarmed to see Lance shivering under the covers. Quickly reaching the bed, she felt his head only to realize he was burning up.

"Dear God," she gasped, looking out the window, hoping that James would still be within sight. Her face fell when she saw them turn the corner in the road that lead to the orchards. Rushing to get a cool bowl of water and a clean rag, she soaked the cloth in the water. Placing it over her sons' forehead, she whispered, "Lance?"

"Mama," Lance whispered weakly. "I...I'm co...cold, Mama. I...I'm so cold."

"Shh Angel," she whispered, standing and leaving the room for a moment. Returning with the thick blanket from the other room, Rebecca covered her son with that, hoping to fight off the chill. "Is that better Lansten?"

"Hot...hot," Lance whispered, his head rolling from side to side. "Ho...hot, Mama."

Pulling the covers back so they covered the lower half of the bed, Rebecca checked the rag that she had placed on Lances' forehead. To her horror, it was dry even though it had only been on there for less then three minutes. "Dear God, why did you have to do this to my son?" she asked, once again soaking the rag. "Better Angel?"

Lance started shivering again, a chill settling over him. He tried to lift his head off the pillow, only for it to fall weakly back down. "Mama," he called softly, his voice barely audible, as his eyes closed. "Mama, I...I'm scared."

Taking hold of his hand, Rebecca lifted it gently to her cheek and pressed the back to her skin. "I'm right here Angel," she whispered, squeezing his hand lightly. "You will be alright. There is nothing to be scared about. I won't leave your side until you're better. I'll stay right here my Angel."

"Mama," Lance whispered, as he drifted off to sleep. Running her free hand through Lances' sweat matted hair, Rebecca prayed silently for her baby boy to become better. As a young child, whenever he was sick, it took its tole on his body; as it was doing now.

Lance murmured in his sleep as his head rolled from side to side. "N...no...no," he whispered, his face a mask of fear.

Squeezing his hand a little tighter, Rebecca placed her free hand on Lances' cheek, trying to calm him, and rid him of the dream that plagued him. "It's okay," she whispered. "You're safe here. No one will hurt you."

"N...no...no," Lance whimpered, trying to get away. "N...no...no ple...please..."

"Shh," Rebecca repeated. "You're safe here Lance. Whatever is scaring you, or hurting you, it can't get to you here."

"N...no...no," Lance screamed, trying to sit up. Rebecca cradled him in her arms, trying to calm her frightened son.

Wondering if what was scaring him was something from his life at Herfordshire, Rebecca whispered, holding him gently, "M'lord? What is wrong?"

"I...I..." Lance got no further as he drifted off to sleep once more.

Rebecca sighed as she soaked the cloth once more in the cool water. "What is scarying you so much Lansten?" she asked herself as she watched her sons' face contort in fear, the tormentors in his dreams continuing to plague him.

"N...no...no...help...help!" he yelled, sitting up once more as Rebecca held him in her arms.

"Lance," Rebecca cried. "Lance, wake up. It's a dream Lance, only a dream."

"N...no...nn..." Lance whimpered, as his mother continued to hold him. Finally looking up, his face relaxed somewhat. "Mama?"

"Angel, are you alright? You had me frightened," Rebecca confided, tears starting to shine in her eyes.

"Mama," Lance sobbed, as Rebecca continued to hold and calm him.

Starting to rock gently back and forth, Rebecca chose not to venture again and ask what her son had dreamt about. He would tell her if he wanted. Instead, she sang to him, a song that had always put him to rest when he was younger. "Hush my baby, don't say a word. Momma's going to buy you a mockingbird. If that mockingbird won't sing, momma's going to buy you a silver ring..."

Slowly, Lance's tears started to subside. His body still shook a little, a mixture of fear and cold. Drawing the blanket up, Rebecca continued to sing the songs she knew Lance liked from his childhood days.

After a while, Lance fell asleep in his mother's arms. Rebecca continued to hold him, soon falling asleep herself. She awakened to James lightly tapping on her shoulder.

Her eyes fluttering open, Rebecca looked up and realized that James was home early from the orchards. "What...what time is it?" she whispered quietly as not to wake Lance.

"It's still early, sweetheart," James whispered, looking at Lance. His face, a mask of concern, he felt his son's forehead. "He has a fever."

"I know," she replied, her eyes returning to her sleeping son. "It seems like every few minutes the rag is dried from his fever." A few tears starting to form in her eyes, she looked up at James, the fear lacing her voice. "James...we have to do something..."

"I'll go get some ice for him," James, whispered as he picked up a bucket. "If his fever doesn't break later tonight, I'll have Thomas fetch the doctor." Rebecca nodded as she rung out the rag and returned it to Lances' forehead.

Lance began to murmur in his sleep again. "Mama...mama...it hurts...make them stop...they...they're hurting me...Mama...help me," he whimpered, tears streaming down his face. James put down the bucket and sat on his son's bed, attempting to calm him.

"He won't tell me what he's dreaming about," Rebecca whispered, close to tears. "I tried talking to him, like I had done when he was little, but he wouldn't tell me."

"No...no...make him...sto...stop. He's...he's hurting me...no...n...no!" Lance cried, trying to sit up. James cradled him in his arms and spoke softly to him.

"Lance, wake up. It's a dream Lance. Only a dream. Please wake up. You're safe here. No one is going to hurt you. Open your eyes son and see."

"N...n..." Lance whimpered as he slowly opened his eyes to find himself enveloped in his father's arms. Looking around and realizing he was indeed safe, he began to cry.

Yawning and stretching, Christopher sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Yes, Edward?" he asked.

"The doctor is here M'lord," the servant explained quietly. "Would you like me to show him to your chambers?"

Getting up and quietly dressing, Christopher nodded. "Yes, Edward, show him in."

Bowing slightly, Edward turned to go back down the hall to fetch the doctor while Blake stirred quietly in bed. Rolling over to where Christopher had been resting next to him, his hand felt around, looking for any trace of his charge. Finding nothing, the young servant opened his eyes slowly. "M...M'lord?" he asked, lifting his head to look around the room.

"It is all right Blake," Christopher, soothed. "The doctor is here to examine you."

At once tensing up, Blake shook his head and instictivily tried to make himself as small as he could. "I...I...please do not let him...him poke and...and prod M'lord...please..."

"Sshh...do not be afraid, my love," Christopher replied. "I will be right here with you. I just want to make sure that Joshua didn't do any serious damage."

Tears starting to form in his eyes, Blake looked up at Christopher and begged him to reconcider. "Have I not...not had enough humilation already M'lord?"

"Blake, it will be all right...trust me," Christopher soothed the frightened boy. "I will not let him hurt you."

"Then...then send him...him away. Pl...please M'lord." Looking up as there was a knock at the door, Blake saw the young doctor enter the room. Turning to look back at Christopher, the frightened boy pleaded with his eyes as his body started to shake with fear.

"Good afternoon," Christopher replied, greeting the young man. "This is Blake, he is your patient."

A few tears rolled down Blakes' cheeks as he turned to look at the doctor. "H...Hello S...Sir..."

The doctor nodded and smiled at him. "Hello, Blake," he replied warmly as he walked over to the bed. Blake looked up at him, extremely frightened. "Do not be afraid...I promise I will try not to hurt you."

"Wh...what are...are you going to do?" the frightened boy asked, his voice shaking as much as his entire body. "I...I am fine...honest I am..."

"From what Lord Christopher has told me, you endured quite a brutal assault. I just want to make sure that you are okay, that there was no tearing." Blake's eyes widened as the doctor gently pulled down the covers. He looked toward Christopher, tears streaming down his face.

"M'lord," Blake cried openly. "Please, do not let him do this; I beg of you. Please. I promise you, Lord Joshua did not hurt me." Reaching out and grabbing hold of Christophers' hand, Blake pleaded with him. "Please Chr...M'lord."

Sitting on the bed, and taking Blake's hand, Christopher tried his best to soothe him. "Blake, it will be all right. I am right here...I will not leave your side."

Realizing his pleads would go unheard, Blake dropped his head onto the soft pillows and cried quietly. Feeling the doctor pulled the covers down to his ankels, and then taking hold of the light pajama pants he had been given when first comingto work within Lord Josephs' home, the tears in Blakes' eyes only mulitiplied.

Taking Blake's hand, Christopher sat down on the bed next to Blake, and gently soothed him. "Blake do not be afraid. I will be right here." Very gently, both the doctor and Christopher turned the frightened boy onto his stomach, so the doctor could begin his examination. Feeling the doctor gently spread his legs, Blake emitted a whimper.

Images of what Joshua had forced him to do came flooding back, hitting Blake like a tidalwave. "M'lord," he tried one last time. "Please. I am sorry. I learned my lesson. Please..."

"Ssh...it is all right my love," Christopher whispered. "I am right here."

When Blake heard the doctor snap the gloves onto his hands, his body tensed. Trying to tell himself he needed to relax just was not working. Letting out a loud shout as a bolt of fire shot through him as the doctor pushed a finger inside, the young servant buried his face in the pillows, ashamed of how childish he thought he was acting.

Christopher rubbed his back as Blake continued to cry, his body tensing up. "It is all right, my love," he whispered, holding on to Blake's hand. "It will be over soon."

Shaking his head, keeping his face hidden, Blake only sobbed more into the pillow. It was bad enough that Joshua put him through, and having Christopher confide that he had feelings for him. Now he had to endure the pain again while a total stranger poked and proded. Blake found himself wondering just how much more of this he could take.

After what seemed like an eternity to Blake, the doctor finally finished his examination. Pulling off his gloves, he put them into a nearby wastepaper can. "There was some tearing, but it will heal in a few days. I will leave you with a salve that you can apply twice a day for the next day or two, that will help with the healing and the pain."

Listening intently to what the doctor was saying, Christopher nodded as the doctor gathered his instruments. "Will he heal completly? I mean, will he be able to go about his routine as normal?"

"Yes, M'lord," the doctor replied quietly. "I will order bed rest for him for the next day or two. Remember to apply the salve twice a day, and he should be able to resume his duties by the end of the week."

Standing and showing the doctor to the door, Christopher promised to make sure that Blake would do as he had ordered. "Is there anything else Blake shouldn't be doing for a while?"

Raising an eyebrow at the dark haired lord, the doctor smiled at him. "No, M'lord....just see to it that he gets plenty of rest."

Smiling sheepishly, Christopher nodded again. "Yes doctor. I promise, Blake will get the best care in the land. I will see to it personally myself."

"Very well," the doctor replied as he started to leave the room. "I shall come to check on Blake in a week. Good-bye, Blake and take care," the doctor told him.

Sniffling, the young boy looked up and acknowledged the doctor before he left the room. When it was just he and Christopher alone again, Blake let out the rest of the tears that he had been holding back.

Cradling him in his arms, Christopher rocked him back and forth. "Ssh, don't cry, my love...it is all over."

"It...it hurts M'lord," Blake whispered through the tears. Wrapping his arms' around Christopher, he tried to stop his body from shaking and to relax, but to no avail. "Wh...what did I...I do to deserve this? Wh...what did I...I do wrong?"

On the verge of tears himself, Christopher continued to hold and sooth him. "Shhh...you did nothing wrong, Blake...what happened was not your fault."

"Then why am I being punished like this?" Looking up, Blake whispered quietly, "I did nothing wrong Christopher."

"No, my love you didn't," Christopher whispered, as he leaned over and kissed him gently. "Do not worry, Blake. You are safe with me. I will never allow anyone else to ever hurt you again."

Sniffling as he pulled away slightly, Blake whispered, "Thank you Chr...Christopher." Looking up into the brown eyes that had nothing but love for him, Blake added, "I...I...lo...thank you."

Looking intently at Blake, Christopher's heart leaped. Had he heard what he thought he had? "What were you going to say, Blake...before you said thank you?" he asked.

Lowering his eyes to look at the carpet below them, Blake whispered, "Nothing M'lo...Christopher."

"Did I just hear you start to tell me that you loved me?" Christopher asked gently.

Shaking his head, the servant repeated, "N...no M'lord."

"Blake, please...if this is how you feel, please tell me," Christopher begged. "You know that I love you with all my heart."

Looking up at Christopher, the boy shook his head again and whispered in reply, "I...I'm sorry. I...I cannot return your feelings."

Tears slowly spilling down his face, Christopher looked at him. "Why, Blake? Why cannot you love me?"

Pulling out of Christophers' embrace and turning onto his side, Blake winced at the dagger-like feeling in his lower region. Silent for a moment, the stillness of the room was broken when Blake, oh so quietly replied, "I...I cannot love you...M'lord...because I have feelings for someone else."