If Not For The Knight, Debbie Boek [electronic reader TXT] 📗

to smile as he watched mothers grabbing their small children and hiding them behind their skirts, as if to protect them from him.

He saw that Regan did not feel the need to do that. She stood, head high, listening to his every word. Her tow-headed, little boy was holding her hand and watching him intently, as well.

“Who is your village elder?” he asked.

A slight old man, with flowing, white hair and a beard to match, stepped forward. “I am Filbert, the Elder,” he called, his voice strong despite the fragile appearance of his body.

“For now, you will act as my Steward and will assign these men and women into three groups. Put the men and women of the same households into different groups. Each will work one day for me, and the next group the following day, and so on.”

“How long do you intend to keep us from our fields, by having to do your work?” one of the men near Edgar called out.

“For as long as it takes to accomplish what needs to be done,” Calder replied. To the elder, he said, “It will be your responsibility to meet with me each evening to report on the progress made that day, and to get instructions for the workers for the following day.”

“Aye, Milord.” Filbert did not much enjoy the thought of spending so much time with this large, fearsome man.

Calder raised his voice again, although he continued speaking directly to the elder, “And you will also report to me the names of the people who did not fulfill their obligations to me that day, so that they may be properly punished for their dereliction.”

Loud comments and complaints now came from the entire group and he saw his men shuffling uneasily, their hands near the hilt of their swords. He knew that he must finish quickly and get the crowd broken up before trouble started.

“Are there any of you that can read, write and do figures?” he asked.

Their response was to stare woodenly back at him, as if they did not understand the question. The buxom, young blonde with Edgar's group stepped forward.

“Regan is able to do all that, Milord,” she said, with a sweet smile that belied the maliciousness in her eyes.

Calder watched as Edgar glared at the girl, then turned his eyes toward Regan. She shook her head and looked even paler than before.

“Is that true?” he called over to her. She did not answer, but her distress was evident on her face.

“It is, Milord,” the elder answered with resignation. “My daughter was taught to read, write and cipher.”

“Regan is your daughter?” he asked curiously, noticing for the first time how the green eyes in Filbert's old, wrinkled face matched the color of the wide, luminous ones which graced Regan's visage.

“Yes, Milord, she is,” the old man answered proudly, ignoring the disgruntled muttering of the crowd.

“I must inspect the lands today. Bring yourself and your daughter to the Hall tonight. Have your groups chosen and I will give you their duties for the morrow.”

“What is my daughter needed for, Milord?”

“We must be sure everyone is being properly taxed. I need one of your people to assist me in obtaining the necessary information, so that it can be done correctly.”

“We ain't paying yer damn taxes,” a loud, belligerent voice called out. Others yelled their agreement and began pushing forward toward him. The two knights on the bottom step had to draw their swords to stop the momentum of the crowd.

“Then you will not live on these lands,” Calder said firmly, not raising his voice, but speaking in such a tone that they all heard him.

“Now get to your fields, or your homes, and do what needs to be done. Tomorrow your time belongs to me.”

Still mumbling and grumbling, the crowd began to drift apart and Calder sighed in relief. Although there were probably fifty or sixty villagers in the Courtyard, he was not worried for the safety of himself or his men, but he did not want this to start out as a bloodbath. He needed these people's cooperation to accomplish what had to be done.

Turning back to the Hall, he was stopped cold when called out to by a sweet, familiar voice.

“Milord,” Regan was standing at the bottom of the steps, nervously twisting her hands together. She no longer had her son with her and looked quite upset.

“Yes?”

“May I speak with you in private?” Regan asked, glancing around at the villagers still in the courtyard, all watching her with open hostility.

Calder saw the looks, as well, and bid her come into the Hall, where they sat on opposite sides of a long, wooden table.

“What is it, Regan?” he asked.

“It is just that, I do not believe I should be the person to help you. There are others that can read and write. They were just too frightened to let you know.”

He watched her face as she spoke, but she would not raise her eyes to meet his.

“Look at me, Regan,” he demanded, and when she finally did as he asked, Calder was surprised to see the unshed tears in her eyes. He reached across the table without thinking and took her hands in his.

“What is this all about?” he asked tenderly. “Are you afraid the villagers will hate you because I am making you help me?”

“No, Milord, it's just that,” she was embarrassed to tell him what her true situation was and did not know how to explain, “well, most of the villagers want nothing to do with me.”

Regan saw his eyes narrow and decided to finish quickly and remove herself from his presence. “You should choose someone else, they will get more cooperation from the villagers. I fear that if I do it, they will be less inclined to give me the information that you require.”

Calder sat quietly for a moment, holding tightly to her hands when she tried to slide them out of his grasp. Sadly, he realized that even though he had managed to marry her off to Edgar, it had not helped her after all. He wondered if Edgar tried to ease her situation, or if he was the cause of it to begin with. Looking at her strained, white face, he feared it was the latter.

“I am sorry for what has happened to you,” he said quietly, his long, tanned thumb gently stroking the silky skin on the back of her hand.

“Please, Milord, I am not here for your pity,” she snapped, unnerved at the emotions coursing through her at his nearness and his touch. “I simply want you to know that it would be in your best interest to have someone else do this for you.”

He gave her a lazy smile. “I have chosen you, and the villagers will give you the information and the respect required, or they will answer to me.”

“Milord,” she began, but he stopped her with a shake of his head. He never anticipated that she would be the villager whose help he needed to levy the required taxes, but now considered it his own good fortune. It would give him an excuse to spend time with her. There was no way he would let her out of it now.

“We will start this together. It is time your people learned they are no longer free to do as they please. They will respect my wishes, or they will be dealt with severely.”

Regan listened to him with trepidation. These were people she had known all her life and, although they had not treated her well in the last few years, she feared for them. She could see that Calder would not yield if they disobeyed him. Knowing the way Edgar, and most of the others, felt about the Normans, she could see only trouble for the future.

Noting how distraught she looked, Calder said softly, “You will never need fear me, Regan. Only those who refuse to do as I command shall be harmed.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“Come with your father tonight and I will explain your duties and your compensation for assisting me.”

“Compensation?” she asked in surprise.

He smiled at her. “Do you believe we Normans are such barbarians that we do not pay for services provided?”

“Of course not, Milord,” she replied, blushing furiously. “It was just that, I did not expect it.”

“I always remember a good deed done me, and I always reward the people who serve me well,” he said with a soft smile. “Now go home, I have much to do. I will see you this evening?”

It was a question more than a statement and she nodded her agreement. He released her hands and walked with her to the door, unable to resist placing his hand in the small of her back, enjoying the contact and wishing the possibility existed for something more intimate between them, but knowing that it could not be.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 6

 

 

Calder checked in on his brother, but Aric was sleeping peacefully, so he and Graeham set out to locate the site for the new castle. After much deliberation, they chose to have it built along the river.

It would be flat, level ground once the trees around the area had been cut down, and lookouts would be able to see trouble approaching from all directions. With the proper fortifications, they would have enough water and, if properly stocked, enough food to outlast