Gerald looked at her, he had reacted with instinct but now that it was over, he felt light-headed, and the room was still spinning. He tried to sit up but merely flopped to the side.
“Easy there,” said Lord Richard. “Sutton, go and fetch the Surgeon. No wait, we’ll take him there directly. Grab his feet.”
He felt himself being lifted by the armpits while someone carried his feet. The whole room swam before him and then went black.
Gerald awoke sometime later in a bed that was soft and comfortable, completely unlike his own in the stables. He heard voices talking, but they were quiet as if muffled by something.
“It’s remarkable,” said a voice that he recognized as Lord Richard.
“Nonsense,” said Baron Edward, his brother, “the boy was lucky.”
“He stood in the face of fear, that’s something not easily taught.”
“Ridiculous, send him back to the stables.”
“He’s wasted in the stables. I see something in him Edward, a spirit if you will. There are grown men that would have run from that fight. Something about him tells me he’d make a good warrior.”
“Complete and utter nonsense. You’re a dreamer Richard, this is the real world.”
“Still,” said Lord Richard, “I’m going to give him a chance.”
“It’s your decision brother. You’re the one who will be responsible for training him.”
There was a silence, and Gerald shifted his head to better listen. He opened his eyes to see a well-furnished room and wondered for a moment if he had died and gone to the Afterlife.
“He’s awake,” said a voice beside him and he turned to see Meredith. She was sitting in a chair near the window, and as he watched, she rose and strode toward him.
“Where am I?” he asked, still trying to focus.
“You’re in one of the guest rooms in the keep. Lord Richard had you brought here to recover. You hit your head when the Norlander fell on you. You’re quite the hero you know, you saved us… and me.” She leaned over him and placed a kiss on his forehead. “You’ll always be my hero,” she said in a quiet voice.
She was smiling at him, and it felt infectious. He was suddenly aware that he, also, was smiling like an idiot, but he didn’t care.
He heard the door open then looked over to see Lord Richard with his elder brother, the baron.
“Well,” said Baron Edward, “you had us all worried there for a while.” He turned to his brother, “Richard, now that he’s recovered, let’s get him back to work, shall we? We can’t have him lingering around here.”
Edward turned, leaving the room, no doubt a busy man. Lord Richard remained, walking over to the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“A little light-headed,” Gerald said. “What happened? Who was the man that I killed, my lord?”
Lord Richard sat at the foot of the bed, “He was a Norlander. A small group of them used ladders to get in from the east wall while we were busy fighting on the north. We were hunting them down, but he managed to evade us. It’s a lucky thing you were there. You saved the women from… well, let’s just say you saved their lives.”
Gerald tried to sit up while speaking, “I must get back to work, Lord, the baron said-”
“Never mind what my brother said, he’s only been the baron for a few months, he’s just overcompensating. You need some rest, you took a nasty wound.”
“I just banged my head.”
“Oh, you did more than that.” He unbuttoned the shirt that Gerald was wearing and showed him the massive bruising on his chest. “You were lucky. The surgeon says it was amazing you didn’t break any bones. No, you’ll stay here until I say so.”
Richard looked knowingly at Meredith then back to Gerald. “I think it’s wise if we have someone to keep a close watch on you. Can you think of anyone who would be willing to do that?” He looked back to Meredith, who was smiling and nodding.
“Very well, it’s decided. I’ll leave you to rest under the watchful eye of Meredith here, and I’ll get Cook to send up some broth for you. Probably best if you don’t eat too much solid foot for a few days.”
“Lord?” said Gerald, not quite comprehending.
Lord Richard smiled as he explained, “You’re bruised all over Gerald and what goes in, invariably comes out, if you know what I mean. It might be uncomfortable for you to, well, eliminate your waste.”
“Eliminate my what?” he asked.
“You know, shit,” he said, turning red. “Honestly, you really should try to increase your vocabulary.”
“My what, Lord?”
“Never mind.”
Lord Richard sat a moment longer, watching as Meredith took a damp cloth to wipe Gerald’s brow. “I think we might move you out of the stables Gerald. It’s time you learned some other skills. What do you say about learning to fight, become a soldier?”
“I would love that, my lord,” said Gerald, “but I don’t have a sword.”
“Don’t worry about that Gerald, I’ll see to it you’re fitted out. Maybe I’ll even train you myself, no sense in someone else mucking it up.”
Gerald didn’t know what to say; he was suddenly overcome with emotion and fought hard to hold it down. Ever since the death of his parents, he had lived in Bodden. Lord Richard had looked out for him, despite his brother’s opposition. He felt an overwhelming sense of duty to repay the kindness, to become the best soldier he could.
Chapter 3
The Offer
Spring 928 MC
IT was early morning, and Gerald rolled over in his bed. Beside him, Meredith, heavy with child, rested comfortably. He sat up quietly, trying to make as little noise as possible; he had early guard duty and must be ready before the sun rose. Meredith stirred as he dropped his legs over the side of the bed.
“Are you off to work?” she said sleepily.
“Yes, Fitz has me in charge of the early watch,” he whispered. “You should go back to sleep, my love.”
She smiled at him in the dim light. “I shan’t sleep much with this baby of yours inside me. She kicks like a horse.”
He placed his hand upon her stomach. “There, there, little one, stop troubling your mother.”
As if by magic the baby stopped moving and Meredith sighed in relief. “Come back soon, we’ll miss you.”
“Nothing but duty will keep me from you. I’ll bring some food back from Cook so you won’t have to prepare anything to eat. I’m sure she’ll insist on coming herself, she positively dotes on you.”
“Well,” she replied, “it’s good to have someone dote on you. You should know, Lord Richard’s picked you as his favourite.”
It was true; Lord Richard had taken it upon himself to train Gerald personally, just as he had promised after the attack. It had been three years, and Gerald was now a muscular sixteen-year-old who had filled out. He was in charge of a watch; an unheard of honour for someone so young. Even the soldiers seemed to respect him. He trained mercilessly, but always found time for his wife. They had been married barely two seasons, but already she was with child. Lord Richard was most congratulatory unlike his brother, the baron, who was less so. “A wife makes a man weak,” he had proclaimed.
Gerald had to disagree. A man who had something to fight for fought with a strength and vigour that was unmatched.
He stood up, pulling his chain shirt over his head, then leaned over the bed to kiss Meredith. “You be careful today, we don’t want you overdoing things, you need your rest.”
Meredith disdainfully replied, “Oh for Saxnor’s Sake, my mother was washing dishes the day I was born. The women in my family are strong.” Just as she finished her statement, the baby kicked, and she grimaced. “Alright, maybe there’s some merit in resting.”
“Can I get you anything on the way back from my shift?”
“You could see about scrounging some of those spicy sausages from the kitchen,” she suggested.
“Your wish is my command,” he declared, bowing deeply.
“I shall raid the kitchen and bring back a bountiful supply of said sausages.”
She laughed, and Gerald thought again how beautiful she looked, especially with a smile on her face.
“Now get to work young man, there’s guarding to be done.”
“I am ever your servant,” he bowed gallantly.
He finished dressing and grabbed his sword and shield from the chair. He took one last look at Meredith, then left the room, ready to carry out his duties.
Bodden Village surrounded the keep that bore its name. Gerald had arranged lodgings over the Blue Swallow Tavern, due to its proximity to the keep and the fact that its solid walls kept out much of the noise of the customers.
With only a short walk to the guard house, he quickly relieved Sir Martin of the duty of watch commander. Usually, only the knights commanded the watch, but Gerald had been given the honour by Lord Richard. Being the younger brother of the present baron, he had the responsibility to look after the troops while Edward saw to the running of the barony. This arrangement worked well for the keep as Lord Richard was much more of a military man than his brother.
Gerald began his shift by checking on the sentries, making sure they were performing their duties, which consisted mainly of being on the lookout for raiders. It was a ritual that they grew tired of hearing, but Lord Richard had taught him that routine was the best way to ensure the proper performance of a soldier’s daily duties.
Gerald was very dedicated to his position as a watch commander and made sure that he performed all duties with the utmost care. These included reading any orders left in the log book. While reading the watch book, he mentally thanked Lord Richard, or Fitz as he was always telling Gerald to call him, for he had insisted that Gerald learn to read and write. Baron Edward had thought the idea ludicrous. “Of what use are letters to a soldier,” he had asserted, but Fitz had insisted. It had allowed Gerald to assume the duties of watch commander when a position became available, and he was thankful for the increase in pay that came with it, particularly now, with a child on the way.
Today’s log contained a note from Lord Richard instructing him to go and pay a visit to the baron at the end of his shift. He chuckled at the simplicity of the note. Only Fitz would write something like this down in the log, for the express purpose of ensuring the log was read. Other entries were typically along the line of ‘nothing of import’, ‘all quiet’, or even ‘nothing to report.’
He was kept quite busy, and by noon he was surprised by Sir Andrew, who was ready to take the next watch. He handed over the log book, detailing all he had done since taking over from Sir Martin. Sir Andrew listened patiently but looked particularly bored by all the formality.
On his way to the meeting, he remembered that the note had mentioned going to the map room. Gerald enjoyed the view from this room as it was the highest in the keep, enabling a person to see the entire barony.
He arrived in time to see the door open; Lord Richard was just leaving, and he looked angry. Richard stopped when he saw Gerald. “Take some advice Gerald, refuse the offer,” he said, then stormed off without explanation.
Confused, Gerald paused in the doorway, then knocked on the door frame.
“Ah, Gerald, come in,” commanded the baron. “I’ve been going over the accounts for the barony, and we need to produce more food. Your family were farmers, weren’t they?”
“Yes, my lord,” he answered.
“Ever thought about becoming a farmer again?”
“I can’t say that I have, my lord,” he replied.
“My brother tells me you’ve been doing well as a soldier,” the baron continued, “but a barony without food can’t last long. I’d like to make you an offer. You become a farmer, and I’ll give you the land and equipment to maintain it. You’ll have help to get started, of course, and the other farmers will teach you what you need to know.”
Gerald looked at the baron in disbelief. Could this be some sort of trap? “I’m not sure I understand the offer, my lord.”
“It’s simple. You would become my tenant, and a portion of the crop becomes the property of the barony, while the rest is yours to sell or use as you see fit.”
It was an attractive offer; farmers could make a decent living, but it would be a lot of hard work. “How much would you take?” he enquired.
“Ha,” exclaimed the baron, “a man that understands his duty, just what I like.”
They spent some time going over the details, then Gerald insisted on getting it down in writing.
Gerald left the room, the title to a farm securely in his pocket. He ran into Lord Richard as he descended the stairs.
“Did you take my brother’s offer?” asked Fitz.
“Yes, Lord, it was too good to ignore. Why?”
“These are dangerous times Gerald. The Norlanders are more frequent in their raids of late, and I believe it could be unsafe out there.”
Gerald bristled, “I can take care of my family, Lord.”
“My dear friend,” Lord Richard responded apologetically, “you mistake my intentions. I only wish the best for you and your family.”
“Then command me to stay, Lord, and it shall be so.”
“That is a decision you must make yourself.”
“But you don’t agree with it?”
“You are a good friend Gerald, and we don’t always have to agree. Although I don’t like this situation, I will support you in whatever way I can. You may trust that we will keep an eye on you, to keep you and your family safe.”
Shame at his attitude suddenly overcame Gerald as he relaxed his stance. “I’m sorry Lord, I thought-”
“Don’t let it vex you. You’ve served me well these last few years; you deserve a life of your own. Now come with me,” Richard commanded.
“Where are we going?” asked Gerald.
“Well, it wouldn’t be prudent for you to show up at home without some wine to celebrate. Let me give you a bottle of my finest.”
Gerald made a face as he asked, “Wine, my lord? Couldn’t you make it ale?”
“Hah!” exclaimed Fitz, “I should have known. So be it, a large jug of the finest ale. We have much to celebrate!”
Chapter 4
The Loss
Autumn 932 MC
THE day was hot, and he was sweating profusely, but he knew he must bring in the harvest. He sliced with the scythe, causing yet another clump of wheat to fall under the blade. He bundled the cut wheat and carried it to the cart, then paused to catch his breath.
Nearby Sally, now four, sat and watched her father while playing with her straw doll. Her brown hair reminded him so much of his wife. He thought of Meredith, back at the house, no doubt preparing the mid-day meal.
Gerald was a happy man. He worked long hours. The work was tough but satisfying. He always returned to the house with a smile on his face as his eyes met those of his wife. His thoughts drifted to the warmth of her body pressed against his, and he felt truly blessed.
His thoughts were interrupted by Sally, who stood up and pointed to a distant spot. “Horses are coming Daddy.”
He looked past her to see the troop of horsemen. He recognized Lord Richard leading, his distinctive coat of arms emblazoned on his surcoat, followed by a troop of six horsemen, no doubt just a patrol. At first, he could only make out Sir Rodney, but as the group drew closer, he recognized most of the other men.
“Gerald, good to see you in fine spirits,” greeted Fitz.
“My lord, it’s good to see you. Can I offer you a drink?”
Lord Richard smiled at the friendly greeting. “A kindly offer, but I think we're all right.” He leaned down from his horse as he drew closer. “The truth is, this lot would drink your house dry,” he chuckled at his jest, but Gerald could see a look of concern behind his eyes.
“Well,” continued Lord Richard, “who do we have here?” He dismounted from his horse, his men stopping their forward motion, knowing what would come next. “Is this the fair maid Sally
?” he asked.
Sally giggled and held her arms out for a hug. It was a ritual that they both enjoyed. Lord Richard always found time to stop and talk to Sally. He lifted her up in his arms. “My, you’re growing like a weed. I could swear you’ve grown a head taller in the last week alone.” He placed Sally onto his saddle, “How about you look after my horse while I talk to your father?”
She smiled and began to stroke the horse's neck.
“Gerald, I wonder if I might have a word with you.” He used a quieter voice to indicate the need for privacy, then began walking away from the horses.
Gerald followed him as he got out of earshot of his men. “My brother the baron has, in his infinite wisdom, decided to reduce the patrols. I’m afraid they won’t be coming out this way as often. I told him it was a mistake, but he’s always been driven by cost, and he wants to maximize his profits, so he’s let some of the men go.”
“Let them go? You mean he’s reducing the garrison?”
“Precisely. I know it won’t take long for the Norlanders to get wind of it. You’ll have to be alert; there’s likely to be trouble. I’ll get a patrol out here as often as I can, but you’re a fair distance from the keep.”
“I understand, my lord,” said Gerald. “Don’t you worry about us, we can take care of ourselves.”
“Glad to hear it, though I’d rather you were back safely in the keep.”
“But the baron needs the wheat,” stated Gerald, “not to mention the pigs I’ve fattened up for him.”
“Well, we’ll have to have a feast at the keep in your honour, and see how they turned out.”
“You won’t be disappointed Lord,” beamed Gerald.
“I never am with you Gerald, I never am.” He turned back to his men. “Now, I need to get my horse back before young Sally here rides off with him.”
He lifted her from the saddle and passed her to her father. “You’d better take her Gerald before I steal her away.”
He smiled at his friend’s jest. “Aye, my lord,” he said, “then I’d have to explain the whole thing to her mother.”
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