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

CHAPTER 14

That evening, Calder and his men tried to determine how best to stop the rustlers.

“Milord,” Draco said, “we send just a couple of men out at a time. There is too much ground to cover to protect all of the livestock with those few men.”

“I know, Draco, but we need sleep. With everyone working on the castle all day, how can we remain up all night to catch these bastards?”

“Tonight, we all go, groups of two, surrounding the perimeter. As soon as the thieves are spotted, an arrow with burning straw on it will be sent into the air. We all converge and take them down. One night without sleep, we can handle.”

“What say you, men?” Calder asked, looking around at his knights.

“Better one night with no sleep at all, than many with but little,” Garrick answered. The others all nodded their agreement. No one noticed Maida, who was now a household servant, listening carefully to their conversation as she set tankards of ale down in front of the men.

A short time later, with their plan set, Calder and his men rode out to their positions. It was not until several hours later, well after the moon had fully risen, that a lit arrow flew into the sky across the field from where Calder and Skeet were keeping watch.

He kicked Alerio's sides and galloped through the herd of cattle with Skeet close behind him. The metallic sounds of swords meeting could be heard over the lowing of the cattle, as he spooked them out of his way.

As Calder approached, he saw Holt and Kenny fighting five men. Draco and Philip had just arrived from the other direction. The thieves looked around and, seeing how many of the fearsome knights they were up against, quickly dropped their swords.

“How many were there?” Calder asked.

“At least a dozen,” Holt replied, grabbing one of the thieves and tying his hands together with a long length of rope. He secured the other end to the saddle and would pull his captive along behind the horse.

“Most of them lit out when the arrow went up, but these fools thought we were the only ones here.”

“Where did they go?” Calder asked one of the hostages, a man he recognized from the village.

The man looked sullenly at him but would not answer.

Calder backhanded him across the mouth, knocking him to the ground. “In the morning, Holt, when they've had some time to think about their situation, spend some time with these men. See if they might be willing to share some information with us then.”

The captives' eyes widened in fear at the implication.

“Gladly, Milord,” Holt replied as he cast a bone chilling smile at the men. “Tie them in the stables tonight and set a man to watch over them.”

At his morning meal the following day, Calder got the news that Jack, the knight who had been guarding the prisoners, had been killed and the prisoners freed.

“Son of a bitch,” Calder roared, furious at himself for underestimating Edgar once again.

“Draco,” he commanded, his voice filled with rage, “you and I will see if there are any tracks to follow. The rest of you men, see to the work at the castle.”

“Yes, Milord,” the other knights responded, anger at the loss of their friend evident in their voices as they stormed out of the Manor.

“Do you see it?” Calder asked, as they peered down over the top of a hill and into the gully below.

“Aye,” Draco replied, seeing the wisp of smoke rising from what looked like just another grassy area but was, in actuality, camouflage on the roof of a small cottage.

They had followed the tracks all day, sometimes losing them for awhile and having to make wide circles until they came across them again. But at last they had successfully completed their hunt.

“We will not miss another opportunity at them, Draco. Come, we'll get the men together and return shortly before dark. When they go out tonight, we will take them all.”

Draco rode to the castle site and collected all of the knights. Returning to the Manor, Calder advised them. “We have located the thieves' hideout. We will position ourselves outside of it just before dark. When they leave, we hit them. Any that are not killed, we will bring back here to be hung, understood?”

“Yes, Milord,” the men answered, eager for the chance to avenge their friend.

No one noticed as Maida slipped out of the Manor and headed off through the woods.

It was full dark and still no one had left the cottage in the woods. The knights were growing restless and Calder finally signaled them down to surround it. Sword drawn, he kicked in the door and entered to find it empty. Food still sat on the table and it looked like whoever was there had cleared out quickly. Swearing colorfully, Calder and his men left the building. Two of them remained behind to watch the cottage.

“How the hell could they know?” Calder asked bitterly, as they rode away.

For the next three days, the knights watched the cottage, but no one entered or left. Feeling particularly frustrated by the third night, Calder was in a foul mood when Filbert arrived for his instructions as to the work for the following day.

“Is there a problem?” Calder asked, finally fed up with Filbert's surly attitude.

Filbert stared hard at him, his thick white brows converging as he tried to work up the courage to speak his mind.

“My daughter and grandson have no food to eat, and it is because of you, Lord Calder.”

“I paid Regan for the work she is doing for me. There is no reason that she should not be able to purchase food.” His voice was cold as he stared the old man down.

“The villagers know what is going on between the two of you. We are not the idiots that you take us for, Milord. I look the other way because she is my daughter, but the others will not. They no longer speak to her, nor will they sell her any food. I have tried to buy some for her myself, but even that is beginning to get difficult.”

“Thank you for telling me. I will see to Regan's needs. And if you continue to have problems yourself, let me know. Leave me now, Filbert,” he said, looking over at the man with a thoughtful frown on his face.

Calder sat silently, brooding for a long time, sipping at his tankard of ale and ignoring the talk of the men around him.

The next evening, Regan was summoned once again to join Calder for dinner. She had not seen him in several days and, although she looked forward to being in his company, was nervous about how the evening would end. She wanted it to end with her lying beside him, being held tightly in his arms, but she knew it would be best for all concerned if she left as soon as she finished eating.

“Good evening, Regan,” Calder said with a smile, taking her arm and escorting her to his table. “Thank you for coming.”

“My pleasure, Milord,” she said shyly.

“How goes the bookwork?” he asked, once he was settled in close beside her. “A bit tedious, Milord, but I am making progress.”

“Good,” he answered, happy to be so close to her once again and to be able to gaze freely upon her lovely face.

The blood drained from Regan's cheeks when the serving girl placed a trencher of food in front of her, and Calder looked carefully at the servant. He had paid no attention to her before this night but realized now that she looked familiar to him.

“Who is she?” he asked Regan, as the girl left to serve the other knights.

“Maida,” Regan answered, adding nothing further.

Turning back to Calder, she said softly, “You look tired, Milord. Is all well with you?”

“We've found the thieves' hideout, but now cannot find the thieves. When we plan to be at the fields with the livestock, they do not show. When we watch their hideout, they steal the cattle from the fields. It is as if they know our plans before we do.”

He watched Regan lift her head and narrow her eyes as she stared at Maida, who was laughing and jesting with the knights while she made her rounds.

“How long has she worked here at the Manor?” Regan asked quietly.

“I'm not sure. I hadn't really noticed her before,” he replied, curious because he knew that it was not jealousy that prompted the question.

She hesitated a moment, then stated, “Maida is Edgar's mistress. I believe she knows where he is.”

“How do you know that?”

Regan responded with a shrug. “Just something she said to me in passing.”

“Thank you, Regan,” he said, taking her hand in his. “That information will be very helpful to me. It must have been difficult for you to share it.”

“Not so difficult,” she replied, her green eyes holding his. “He may be my husband, but I have no feelings for