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

“As you wish.” Garrick relished the opportunity to make these Saxons pay, even if just a little, for their attitudes and actions against his own people. He only wished the punishment could be a little harsher.

“Holt, you took the patrol today. Were you able to find any evidence of where the thieves are hiding?”

“No, Milord,” the bald giant answered, “and they were able to abscond with several head of cattle on the north side, while we rode to the south. There are not enough of us, M'lord, to protect all that we have to watch over.”

“I know, Holt,” Calder said, rubbing his brow in weariness and frustration. “But, I cannot spare any more men until we get these villagers to work as they are instructed. Once we get their cooperation, more of our men can assist you.”

“And what do we do in the meantime, M'lord?”

“Herd all of the cattle and livestock into one area, where you will be better able to keep an eye on them. Kill anyone who approaches that you are not familiar with. When we are able to put more men to the task, we will find the thieves' lair and hunt them down.”

“That will cause more headaches for you, M'lord,” Holt replied.

“In what way?”

“These people keep their stock separate so that they know which animals belong to each of them. Mix them together and there will be no end to their squabbles over ownership.”

“Better that, than to having nothing left to squabble over,” Calder stated quietly.

“As you wish, M'lord,” Holt responded, knowing it would be much easier for him and his patrol now, but much more difficult for Calder in the long run.

“Draco,” Calder said, turning to him, “I have something that I need you to do.”

“Yes, Milord?”

“I have asked Regan to go from cottage to cottage, obtaining information as to the extent of each family's holdings in order to levy the proper taxes against them.”

He hesitated a moment, wondering how to phrase his request. “The villagers will not willingly give her the necessary information. I need you to go with her and lend your authority to her requests, so that they give her what she needs.”

“I am to babysit, Milord?” Draco asked in a dry tone.

“No, Draco,” Calder replied with a caustic smile. “I think they might try to do her harm, because she is assisting me. I need you to keep that from happening. I also need your sharp eyes, so that you can report anything she might miss.”

“As you wish, Milord,” Draco replied, his eyebrow raised in skepticism.

“I must see my brother now.” Calder's sadness regarding Aric's impending death still weighed heavily on his mind.

He asked Devona to leave the room when he arrived to find Aric awake. “Calder,” Aric said weakly, grabbing his hand.

The younger man sat beside his brother on the bed. “How do you fare today, Aric?”

“Not so well, brother. Gideon plies me with herbs that help me sleep but, I fear, I will not awake one of these times. Devona sent a messenger to bring my children to me from Normandy. I must see them before I go.”

Aric's face was pale and his cheeks sunken as Calder gripped his warm, feverish hand in both of his. He wished dearly that he could give Aric his own strength to fight the battle that he waged within his body.

“I know that I do not have long, Calder,” he began, but was overcome by a harsh, raspy coughing fit. Only after Calder gave him a drink of water, was he able to continue. “I ask only that you look out for Devona and my children.”

“You do not have to ask that of me, Aric. You know I will see them well cared for.”

“I know, brother,” Aric said weakly, “but Devona can try the patience of a saint and I put the burden to you, Calder, to be sure she is all right.”

Calder smiled tenderly down at him. “Have no fear for them. They are my family and will be taken care of as such.”

Aric's eyes glazed over a little and he began to speak then of their childhood. “I never felt like your older brother, Calder. I always felt you were the older son.”

“Why is that, Aric?”

“It was you who always protected and cared for me, when it was my responsibility to do so for you. Even as children, you protected me from others, as I could not protect you.”

“I grew into a man earlier is all, Aric.”

“No,” he said, his voice weakening, “it is who you are, Calder. Protector of the innocent and the weak, a fearless warrior, a man of honor. I take much pride in knowing that you are my brother.”

Aric's eyes closed then, before Calder could respond. His slow, even breathing indicated that he had drifted off into sleep. Calder stared fondly down at him, pulled the covers up to his shoulders and silently left the room.

CHAPTER 9

As Regan crossed the courtyard the next morning, pulling Radolf along by the hand, she was bewildered to see all of the commotion going on. The knights were dragging some of the village men and placing them in pillories. The men were shouting obscenities at the knights and trying to fight back, but they were no match for the large, capable soldiers. Other villagers were milling about, making snide and derogatory comments about the Normans' ancestry.

“Unless you wish to join them, leave the courtyard.” Calder's voice boomed out from the top of the Manor steps. Regan saw that the boyish charm she had seen on his face the day before was completely gone from the man who stood here now. His face was hard and stern, his strong jaw set as he glared down at the villagers.

“Those of you required to work for me today, see Filbert to learn where you will be needed. And know you, if you do not fulfill your obligations to me today, it will be you standing here in this courtyard tomorrow.”

There was much mumbling and grumbling, but most of the villagers began to go about their business. Regan saw Edgar on the far side of the courtyard, glaring at her as she made her way to the Manor steps. She would not meet his eyes.

“Milord,” she asked hesitantly, reaching Calder on the steps and looking down at the men in the pillories, “what is this about?”

“These men refused to do as I commanded and they must be punished. If they are not, others will follow their lead.”

He looked down at Radolf, whose eyes were open wide with fear as he looked out at the men. Calder knelt down beside him.

“There is no need for you to be afraid, Radolf.” His voice was quiet and gentle, not wanting to frighten the boy any more than he already was. “I am the Lord here and these people must learn to obey me. Can you understand that?”

“Yes,” he answered tremulously, not understanding any of it.

“Good,” Calder said, chucking him under the chin and standing up straight. He turned his attention then to Regan. “Was all well with you last night?”

“Yes, Milord, there were no problems,” she answered, knowing he was referring to Edgar. She did not mention that Edgar had not returned home at all, much to her relief.

“I am glad to hear that,” he said, with a pointed look in Edgar's direction. “You will begin the next phase of work this morning. Your papers are in the Hall, as is Draco. He will accompany you.”

She was not sure how she felt about that. Draco scared her almost as much as the thought of confronting the villagers.

“I must go now.” With a brusque nod, he turned and headed for the stables. Regan and Radolf entered the Hall to find Draco finishing his breakfast.

Radolf sat down next to him and stared enviously at the food in his trencher. “Are you hungry, boy?” Draco asked in his low, gravelly voice.

Radolf nodded.

“Here, I am done with this.” Pushing the trencher, still half full, over toward Radolf, he looked curiously at Regan.

She flushed in embarrassment, but remained silent rather than let this fierce man know that Edgar had not brought food for them in sometime, and that their supplies were getting dangerously low. She planned on taking Radolf to her mother's for dinner that evening, to fill up his little belly and make up for the meager scraps she had fed him that morning.

Once Radolf cleared all the remaining food from the trencher and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, causing his mother to sigh heavily, the odd trio began about their duties.

At the very first cottage, Regan realized what a blessing it was to have Draco along. She insisted that Radolf stay outside and play as she went to the door and knocked at the cottage of Seaton. His wife, Rowena, answered the door and, seeing who stood there, slammed it in Regan's face.

“Stand aside,” Draco growled, as he kicked the flimsy door open and strode inside.

“Get out of my home,” Rowena started to screech, stopping only when she saw Draco's massive frame filling her doorway.

“Sit,” he commanded the woman, who promptly fell back into a chair, her face blanching. “Now, you will answer Mistress Regan's questions, honestly and completely, understood?”