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

He grew angry as the mumbling and grumbling of the crowd grew louder. “Would you prefer that I let them be stolen? I will survive the winter. If your livestock is taken from you, one by one, will you?”

His eyes were blue glaciers of ice as he stared down at them. The murmuring of the crowd quieted as they accepted the truth of what he was saying.

“It is your obligation, as men, to take only what belongs to you. The next complaint that I hear such as this, I will punish the offender as a thief and have his ear lopped off. If that does not correct the situation, we will start cutting off hands. Now, who is next?”

Several people in the front reconsidered their accusations and melted back into the crowd. A few more people came forward with some minor complaints, but most seemed to have lost their interest in the proceedings and were beginning to drift away.

“I have a complaint,” Lord Calder called out, standing up behind the table. “I ask that Draco stand as judge to hear the case.”

Draco looked at him in surprise, then tensed as he realized who the accused would be.

Those villagers who had been leaving stopped and returned to the circle, their interest piqued once again.

Calder walked down to the bottom step and looked up at Draco. “I accuse Edgar, the Avener, of wife beating,” he stated boldly. There were gasps from the crowd, for no matter how they felt about Regan, all considered wife beating to be a heinous and cowardly act.

Edgar's face was the color of a ripe tomato as he approached Calder.

“And, if I did, how would you know of it?” he asked, his voice filled with embarrassment and rage.

“I know, Edgar,” Calder replied in a low voice.

“Where is Regan?” Edgar demanded. “Have you hidden her away so she cannot deny what you accuse me of?”

“She is not my wife, Edgar. How is it that you do not know where she is?” Calder answered calmly.

Edgar's eyes narrowed as he stared at Calder. They stood toe to toe, Calder slightly taller and much broader, the look of hatred identical on their faces.

“With no other witnesses present, I request judicial combat,” Calder stated, keeping his eyes on Edgar.

“What is that?” Edgar asked, suddenly looking a little nervous.

Draco answered the question. “When the truth can only be known by the accuser and the accused, they fight. The winner is the man whose position is just and true.”

Edgar rubbed his sweaty hands on his tunic, eyeing Calder's massive frame tensely. “Regan can tell the truth of the matter. Why can we not wait until she returns. She will tell you that I have never beaten her.”

“If you beat her once, would she not say anything that you want, to keep you from doing so again?” Calder asked.

“She will tell the truth. I have not laid a hand on her. Anyway, I do not choose this judicial combat.”

“It is too late,” Draco boomed from his perch on top of the stairs. “There are no witnesses present. Judicial combat has been requested. If you refuse to fight, you will be found guilty and punished accordingly.”

Standing silent for a moment, staring hard into Calder's eyes, Edgar took a deep breath and turned to Draco. “So be it then.”

The crowd moved back, leaving a wide circle in which the men would fight. Calder’s knights stepped to the inner side of the circle in anticipation of trouble.

“No weapons,” Draco called. Calder handed his dirk and sword to Skeet. None of the villagers were allowed to carry weapons, so the unarmed Edgar stood to the side, silently watching Calder, his eyes filled with fury.

The two men circled, sizing each other up. Calder was taller and more powerfully built. Edgar was thin and wiry, and quicker.

Calder stood as still as a statue. He looked at Edgar with contempt and raised his hands in a beckoning motion.

“Why don't you dance with a man for a change?” he asked scornfully.

Enraged, Edgar charged him and landed the first blow to Calder's chin. It seemed to have no effect on the larger man, as he pummeled Edgar's stomach with his large fists.

Edgar doubled over in pain and Calder's fist came up, striking him in the nose and sending him flying. A cloud of dust rose as he pitched backward to the ground, gasping for breath.

Edgar stood slowly and walked toward Calder, fists up, a small trickle of blood dripping from his nose. Catching Calder by surprise, he rushed him, grabbing his legs and knocking him backwards to the ground. Jumping atop him, Edgar was able to land several blows to his face before Calder threw him off.

Circling each other again, both panting from the exertion, they inched closer and closer to each other. Finally, within striking distance, they began to exchange blows, some to the face, others to the body. Each impact drew blood or a grunt of pain from the recipient, as they poured their rage into each punch.

Calder came around with a powerful blow to Edgar's head, knocking him to the ground once again; where he lay writhing in agony, holding his head in his hands.

The crowd yelled to him, encouraging him to get up and keep fighting.

He slowly started to rise, made it as far as his knees and fell backward again. He lay on the ground, unable, or unwilling, to get up and fight any further. The crowd roared in disappointment.

“The judicial combat is over,” Draco called out. “Edgar is found guilty of being a wife beater and will be punished accordingly.”

The crowd was restless, excited from the savagery of the fight and angry that one of their own had lost. Calder's men faced them down, their hands close to the hilts of their swords, ready to draw them at the first sign of an attack.

Calder wearily approached the steps of the Manor. He caught Draco's eye just as he heard a gasp from someone in the crowd. He whirled, just in time to see Edgar rushing toward him with a dirk in his hand.

Calder stepped to the side and grabbed the hand that bore the knife. He twisted it behind the other man's back. Edgar screamed as the bone in his wrist snapped and the dirk fell harmlessly to the ground beside him.

Edgar's cries continued as Calder threw him down into the dust and picked up the discarded knife.

“You are a disgusting coward,” he said, looking at Edgar with revulsion. “Have the arm set and return to me. Trying to murder your Lord is not an act to be taken lightly. I will take the time before you return to determine your proper punishment.”

Edgar ignored Calder's words as he continued writhe in pain. Calling two of his knights over, Calder instructed them to follow the prisoner and remain outside the healer's cottage until Edgar's wrist had been tended.

Calder strode up the steps and into the Manor, refusing to watch as the villagers crowded around Edgar and offered their assistance. It hardly seemed necessary to have the arm set. Calder knew that Edgar should be executed for his deed. But he needed some time to think it through before making a final decision.

Such an act would not only enrage the villagers, but he had to consider Regan and Radolf, as well. Did he want to be responsible for leaving them without the support of a husband and father?

Ultimately, he did not have to anguish much over the decision. When the husband and father was such a cowardly low life as Edgar, who only added misery to their lives, there was no other decision that could be made. Edgar would hang at dawn.

CHAPTER 12

When night fell and still Edgar had not shown himself at the Manor, Calder sent two of his knights to collect him.

The knights returned a short while later. “Forgive us, Milord, but he appears to have escaped. A hole was cut through the back wall of the cottage and he was able to squeeze through unseen,” Bert reported, looking shame-faced at the floor. “We've searched the village but cannot locate him. There are some horses missing from the stable, as well.”

Regan appeared in the Hall just then, looking shaken and upset. "Milord, I need to speak with you, if you can spare me a minute."

She saw that he was in the midst of talking to his men, but was extremely agitated by the visit from the knights who had been looking for Edgar. She had to find out what was happening.

“Find him,” Calder directed sternly to Bert, taking Regan's arm and escorting her outside, where they would not be overheard.

“Milord,” she asked, her green eyes wide with worry and confusion, “why were your men sent to find Edgar? What has happened?”

“Edgar tried to kill me. I should have brought him to the Manor right after it happened, but he was hurt and I allowed him to go and have his injury tended. I erred in letting him out of my sight. Now it appears he has run off and taken some of my horses with him.”

She was dumbfounded at his news. “Why would he do that?”

Calder blew out a deep breath. “Regan, did he beat you?”

She did not answer him.