"Alright Anna, I'll do that. Now I have an idea," he whispered conspiratorially.
Anna leaned in to hear the plan.
"I think we should commence Operation Shadow," he said, knowing that Anna enjoyed making plans. "We need to observe Mister Renfrew and gather as much information about him as we can. Remember, a good commander must survey the enemy before he attacks."
"Aye, General," Anna responded with a mock salute. "Operation Shadow is underway!"
Chapter 15
Lord Brandon
Autumn 956 MC
LORD Robert Brandon, Baron of Hawksburg, was an educated man. There were some who thought him among the most intelligent in the kingdom. It was for this reason that he had found his way onto the Royal Council, and specifically found himself in his current position. His skill at mathematics had proven useful to keeping accounts. For the last three years, his courtly duties were to oversee the expenditures, hires, and contracts pertaining to the eight Royal Estates that were scattered about Merceria. All, in fact, save the Royal Palace itself.
The Royal Estates were each run by skilled individuals who looked after the day to day concerns. It was Lord Robert’s responsibility to tally the accounts when they were submitted each month. On this day, one of the first of the new winter, he was examining the books for the Royal Estate in the Glowan Hills, one of the king’s favourite places to relax. The books were impeccable, as they always were, and he dutifully transcribed the numbers into the master ledger. It was not the most exciting position, but Lord Brandon prided himself on doing more than just being a noble.
He finished copying the numbers and gave the ink time to dry. Closing the tome, he reached for his glass of wine. He brought the chalice to his nose to smell the aroma, leaning back in his chair to savour it. He was just bringing it to his lips when there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," he invited, and the door opened to reveal one of the Palace runners.
"These messages just came in from Uxley, my lord," the messenger announced as he walked into the room.
The runner was about to place them on the table when Lord Robert spoke up, "Give them directly to me Charles, and I'll look at them right away."
"Yes, my lord," Charles replied, dutifully placing them into the baron's hands. "Can I get you anything Lord?"
"Yes, thank you, Charles. See if you can rouse me up something from the Kitchen would you? I'm feeling a bit peckish."
Charles turned to leave, and the baron added, "On second thought, forget the food, Charles. If I remember rightly, you've got to get home for your daughter’s birthday, don't you."
Charles was always surprised by the baron’s thoughtfulness. "Yes, my lord, thank you." He left the office, closing the door quietly behind him.
Lord Robert examined the satchel placed in his hands. He opened the flap to see three letters, each sealed with wax. Two were familiar looking, probably the monthly ledgers, the third looked more like a personal letter. He put aside the books to examine the message. The seal looked very ordinary, no coat of arms, hence it could not have been from a noble. He noticed it was not addressed to anyone, so he saw no reason not to open it. He grabbed his slim dagger and sliced the seal off the document, carefully unfolding it.
The letter was written in a hand he did not recognize. Typical correspondence would have been authored in Hanson's sure hand. This writing was far more elaborate. Intrigued, he read further.
18 October 956
My Lord,
I must report that the education of the Princess is proceeding well. So well, in fact, that I have found it necessary to increase the expenditure for books due to the rapid progress that she is making. I trust this will meet with your approval under the circumstances, after all, we cannot deny the best education to a member of the Royal House.
On another note, I must bring to your attention the efforts of one of the staff at Uxley Hall who, I feel, is having an unhealthy influence on Her Highness’s progress. This groundskeeper, a most uncouth man by the name of Gerald Matheson, opposes me at every turn.
I trust, my lord, that in the interest of the crown, you would consider terminating this man’s employment at Uxley Hall immediately.
Your faithful servant,
William Renfrew
Lord Brandon was astounded. In his years of looking after the estates, he had never seen such a request. He reread the letter to see if he had made some mistake. Who was this William Renfrew and who was Gerald Matheson? And, perhaps more importantly, what princess was he talking about. He knew Princess Margaret was wintering in Wincaster. Was someone impersonating a royal?
He laid the letter aside and opened the accounts for Uxley Hall. He recognized Hanson’s neat hand, though it was getting weaker, for the man was aging. He quickly glanced over the numbers. The expenditures had taken a sharp increase in the last month, and Hanson had noted the arrival of a tutor. There was also a plea from Hanson to release more funds due to the added expense.
Lord Robert was perplexed but thought it through. Every staff member of a Royal Estate had to have a letter of personal reference which was stored here, in the Palace. He rose from his chair, making his way over to the bookcase that held all the relevant documents for Uxley Hall. Sifting through them, he easily located the two he was searching for and carried them back to his desk.
Perhaps William Renfrew had a legitimate complaint, but Lord Robert would not condemn a man without a proper investigation. He read over the first document he had retrieved. It was a note of reference for a William Renfrew, a Royal Tutor. It praised the man in no uncertain terms, but the wording bothered Lord Robert. It was ill-written, and the frightful grammar made him wonder who it was that had written such a note. His query was satisfied when he reached the end. It was signed and sealed by none other than Marshal-General Valmar. He found it curious that a general should recommend a tutor. Surely the king or queen should make such a statement? The baron disliked Valmar. The marshal-general had made no secret that he wanted a title, but Robert wouldn't let that sway his decision.
He picked up the second letter and read it. It was a well-written document extolling the virtues of Gerald Matheson, a valiant soldier who had served his country well. It was signed by Lord Richard Fitzwilliam, Baron of Bodden, and held his seal which Lord Brandon instantly recognized. Lord Richard had married Lord Robert’s older sister many years ago leading the two nobles to become good friends.
Lord Robert decided he would talk to Fitz and find out more about this Gerald Matheson, and then he would be able to determine whether or not the man should be dismissed. He placed the letters aside and turned back to work. It was a matter of half an afternoon to transfer Hanson's numbers into the official ledger. By the time he was done, it was late afternoon and, knowing Lord Fitzwilliam was in town, he decided to try to track him down at his favourite haunt, the Queen’s Arms.
Soon after, carrying the letters of reference in a satchel, he arrived at the tavern. The place was busy as the cold snap had driven all the customers inside. A nice roaring fire warmed him the moment he stepped through the doorway.
It was packed and the smell of ale and roasted food made Lord Robert hungry. He pushed through the press of people, glancing around at the customers. As expected, Lord Richard Fitzwilliam, the Baron of Bodden, was sitting in his usual seat away from the window and close to the sounds of the kitchen. The man appeared to be eating a hearty stew. A tankard of some sort sloshed as he absently picked it up, spilling a small amount onto the table.
Lord Brandon made his way to the table, and Fitz looked up, seeing him as he approached.
Fitz stood up and extended his hand, "Robert, splendid to see you! Sit down, man, have some ale!" He waved to the server to get her attention, then indicated he wanted two drinks by holding up his tankard, then two fingers and pointing to Lord Robert.
"Good to see you Fitz!" exclaimed Lord Robert. "You look well. What have you been up to lately?"
"Oh, you know," he respo
nded cryptically, as he always did, "this and that, nothing to bore you with. And how have you been, my dear fellow?"
"I've been well, though I miss the family. I'm hoping to get home before the midwinter festival. I haven't seen the children in months."
Fitz smiled. It was always good hearing from Robert; he was a good friend. Even after the death of Lady Evelyn in childbirth, Robert had kept in touch.
Lord Robert continued, "That reminds me, did I hear that that niece of mine is back in Wincaster? I thought she was down in Colbridge?"
Fitz made a face before answering, "Shrewesdale actually, and I'm afraid it was not the best of times for her. Still, she's back in Wincaster now. I'm trying to get her to learn more about court life, but you know how it is. She's a knight, and it’s hard for her to be accepted."
Lord Robert understood thoroughly. Beverly Fitzwilliam was a capable woman. She would not take to the bad example of nobility that was the Earl of Shrewesdale. "Say, I have a thought," Lord Robert offered, "why don't you send her up to Hawksburg. I know Mary would love to see her niece and I'm sure Aubrey would delight in spending some more time with her cousin."
Fitz smiled again. "An excellent idea!" he concurred. "It'll do her good to see a noble that does his job well."
The server arrived with two more tankards of ale and Fitz dropped a crown into her hand. She was about to go and get change, but the baron gestured for her to keep it.
They savoured the hot ale, Lord Brandon feeling the warmth go all the way to his toes.
"Are you taking your work home with you?" enquired Fitz, indicating the satchel that Lord Robert was carrying.
Lord Brandon put his tankard down, remembering why he had sought his friend out. "I did come here to ask you about something. I had a letter come across my desk today from Uxley Hall."
Fitz was immediately interested. Typically he would guard his interest, but Robert was his brother-in-law. "Go on," he urged.
Robert retrieved a document from his satchel and handed it to his friend. "This letter came to me with the accounts. It mentions some things that confuse me. See what you make of it."
Fitz read over the letter. Not trusting his eyes, he read it over a second time, then carefully handed it back.
Robert broke the silence, "Am I missing something? Princess Margaret is in Wincaster, so who is this mysterious princess at Uxley?"
Baron Fitzwilliam leaned in closer and kept his voice low. "I recall years ago there was a rumour that the queen had a fourth child, do you remember?"
"Yes," responded Robert, "but wasn't it dead at birth?"
"There were persistent rumours that the infant survived, but it was said there was some type of birth defect, and the child was hidden away. I suspect we may have discovered this missing child."
Lord Brandon could scarcely believe his ears. He fished about in his satchel, pulling out Fitz's letter of recommendation. "I presume you wrote this," he said, handing the sheet to his friend. "What can you tell me about the man?"
Fitz read over the letter quickly. "The man has served me for years. I would trust him with my life, or my daughter’s, to be honest. He is completely trustworthy. If he is interfering in some way, I can only conclude that this Renfrew character is up to something."
Robert nodded his head, he had expected as much. "I completely trust your judgement, Fitz. Now let me show you Renfrew’s reference letter." He retrieved the last document from the satchel and placed it into Fitz's hands.
Fitz read the letter and stared at it for a while, digesting its meaning. Valmar! The very name upset him.
"I have to make a decision on this, but I'd like to investigate further. Have you any suggestions on how I might proceed?"
Fitz looked at him for a moment, then a smile crept over his face. "I'll tell you what Robert, let me take care of this for you. I think you'll find that your little problem at Uxley might present its own solution in due course. Do you think you can hold off on a decision for a few weeks?"
"Certainly," Robert responded. "Anything for you Fitz. But I better take the letters back, they'll need to stay in the Palace."
Fitz handed them back. "Of course, Robert," he agreed.
They sat and chatted for some time, mostly about their families. It was well into the evening by the time Lord Brandon returned to the Palace to turn in for the night.
Baron Fitzwilliam, on the other hand, had work to do, so he made his way to the knight’s barracks. It was typical that the knights who served the crown were billeted within the Palace, and Lord Fitzwilliam had visited the place on many an occasion. He arrived at the stone building to see the chimney pumping out smoke, the mouth-watering smell of meat greeting his nose. He opened the door. Inside the single room was a group of seven knights sitting around a table playing cards. He knew the beds were upstairs along with the officer’s quarters, and so upstairs he went, leaving the knights wondering who this mysterious visitor was. At the top landing, there was an office, with a door, and a series of beds laid out in rows.
He knocked politely on the door and was greeted a moment later by a feminine voice.
"Come in," it responded, neutrally.
He opened the door. Dame Beverly Fitzwilliam was sitting at a desk writing in a journal of some type. She looked up to see her visitor.
"Father!" she exclaimed, a smile on her face. "I didn't know you were back in Wincaster. How have you been?"
"Very well, my dear," he said proudly, looking around, very impressed with her new promotion. "I’d heard you’d become the section commander. Excellent work."
"Only by virtue of most of them being illiterate."
"Still," the baron added, "it does well for your career. You're making progress."
She wrinkled her nose a little. "Not really, Father. Since I've returned from Shrewesdale, I've managed to alienate most of the knights. They're all such… I can't find the words to describe them."
"You're used to being around fighting knights Beverly. These knights are more like courtiers, knighted for their family name more than their ability."
"Yes, but I was knighted-" she began
"For your ability,” he quickly interrupted. “You saved the king’s life! Of course, had he known you were a woman he probably would have changed his mind." He remembered with pride that fateful day and chuckled. "I can still remember it. He promised to knight you on the spot. I think he was shocked when you took your helmet off, but then he couldn't lose face, so he had to go through with it. You earned it Beverly, don't let anyone ever tell you any differently."
"And how did you find Shrewesdale?" he prompted, though he already knew the answer.
"Terrible. The duke is a… man dedicated to his pursuits."
"Impressive," acknowledged Fitz with simulated shock on his face, "you're learning to be diplomatic."
She looked at him carefully, recognizing the sparkle in his eyes. "You didn't come here just to see me, did you? You're up to something. What do you need me to do?"
He returned her studied gaze and smiled. "You know me too well, my dear. Tell me; you had to guard Princess Margaret a few years ago, do you remember the name of the tutor she had?"
"Hard to forget," she said. "His name was Renfrew. I had to slap him for making a lewd suggestion."
"To the princess?" Fitz was aghast at the very thought.
"No! To me!"
Fitz laughed. "I'm sure that if you slapped him, he’ll not soon forget it, though why the king would employ such a man in the first place is beyond me."
"According to the princess he was frequently drunk," she said, "and he had a thing for the ladies, though they seldom returned the sentiment. He had an overinflated opinion of himself."
"Thank you, Beverly. I believe you have filled in the last piece of the puzzle. I have to go now. I need to write a letter immediately to Gerald Matheson."
"Gerald? How is he involved with Renfrew?" she queried.
"I'm afraid I don't have time to explain it all right now.
Much of it I'm still figuring out, but if you meet me tomorrow for a luncheon, I'll tell you all about it."
"Agreed." She was happy to find any excuse to get away from court.
Fitz walked over to Beverly and hugged her, then held her at arm's length to look at her. "I'm very proud of you Beverly; your Mother would have been as well. Tomorrow then, the usual place?"
"Of course, Father, but perhaps I'll wait till you've had time to finish that smelly cheese."
Baron Richard Fitzwilliam left her office with a laugh and a smile, but by the time he reached the ground floor, he was deep in thought. He had much to do, but first on the list must be a letter to Gerald to help straighten out this problem at Uxley Hall.
Chapter 16
Hanson
Winter 956/957 MC
THE first snow at Uxley had settled on the ground. Gerald could feel the cold penetrate to his very bones as he walked over to the Hall. It was morning, and he had decided to join the other servants for breakfast. He was always welcome, of course, but often remained in his cottage so that he could eat at his leisure.
He entered the servant’s hallway and was removing his coat and boots when he saw young Sophie. She was passing him on the way to the kitchen.
When she saw him, she spoke in a friendly manner, "Hanson wants to see you in his office when you get a chance." He made his way through the kitchen, grabbing a plate and a couple of scones, dripping with honey. He navigated his way through the others that were pestering Mrs Brown for more food and made his way to Hanson's office.
He knocked respectfully, entering upon hearing Hanson's voice, still carrying the plate. Hanson waved his hand to indicate he should have a seat. Sitting down, he observed the man at work. As usual, he had his quill and ink out and was pouring over papers, bills most likely, making entries into the ledgers that recorded all financial transactions for the Hall.
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