by LeRoy Clary
“What are these?” Tyler held a handful of them up instead of trying to muddle through reading them with his limited reading abilities.
“Deeds, I believe.”
“What exactly, are deeds?”
“They prove ownership of land and buildings by the bearer. Lord Cabot has extensive holdings in other areas of the realm, and legally the possessor of those documents owns them when presented to the king’s magistrates.”
Tyler looked at the seals, stamps, and writing. “Are you telling me that right now, as the holder of these papers, I own the land they describe?”
The man hesitated before answering. When Tyler pulled his sword from the scabbard, he said quickly, “Yes, sir. You’re correct, no need for violence. When properly presented to the king’s magistrates, they prove who owns the property.”
“This chest with the deeds is the lockbox Lord Cabot wanted you to fetch, right? Not the others with the jewelry and gems?”
The man gave a single, tiny nod.
He still wore his backpack and slipped it off. He dumped his few things out, smelling the rotting flesh from the claw he had left inside and decided he needed a new backpack. Soon. He moved the claw to one side, comforted by the feel. The thing was far too big to lug around on his neck. The official papers went inside the backpack to form a layer on the bottom. He dumped the contents of the other lock boxes inside, too, taking no care with how the contents landed.
There were no straps to buckle because the damn dragon had chewed them apart and he didn’t need the contents spilling out at an inopportune time. Belts. He stormed across the room and into the dressing area, leaving the man in the bedroom.
While no belts were in immediate evidence, he didn’t doubt they were nearby. A double-wide set of drawers found socks, small-wear, and finally a drawer containing belts of every size and color. He used his knife to cut a pair to the right size, and he strung them through the holes he cut in the heavy material. When done, they circled around his backpack and secured the flap, then at the last second, he tossed in two more belts, just in case he needed them. While Rage had eaten his straps, Thunder had eaten Benders, and he didn’t intend to carry all the weight that was in the chests. Bender needed to do his share.
Tyler forced the man back to the gardens where Bender was still interrogating the few others they’d found alive, the only survivors. There were ten of them, now. It seemed all had hidden from the massacre for one reason or another, and then they had managed to successfully evade the guards who were seeking them out before all of the Cabots and guards fled the palace as a unit.
Bender was speaking, “You say they packed and left in a rush after a man rode in on a horse. All of them.”
“Like a wildfire was coming this way,” a boy of about twelve said. “The Cabots and guards killed people and started fires to burn valuable stuff. People were yelling and screaming, fires were everywhere, but then another man came rushing in saying there was an army on the march. It was coming here. He said that was when everyone who worked for the Cabots had been slain in the mines and camps. And that the army was going to kill everyone.”
“That would be us,” Helm said. “At least two of them slipped past, I guess. Sorry.”
Bender said, looking at Tyler, “We can’t catch them, now. What do you think?”
“We tear this place down, destroy the compounds, and clear the log jam on the river on our way back to the village. We’ll pay our men in Trenton, where we can exchange our gold for the silver we promised them. Judge and Helm will help the prisoners find a way home, even if we have to pay for it, and we should leave them enough money for that effort, too.”
Bender gave him a questioning look of approval. He waited for more, and when it didn’t come, he said, “I’ve seldom seen you as decisive. But, at least it’s over.”
Tyler shook his head slowly, “No, it’s not. Not by half.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
To Bender’s credit, he didn’t ask questions or need explanations right away. He accepted Tyler’s comment that it was not over, yet. They and their men slept in the palace one night, searched it thoroughly in the morning, and they invited their army to keep what they wished. The slaves they rescued were invited to remain or march with them, but the building was too massive and large to destroy completely. All of them chose to leave. When morning broke, the entire ragtag army marched in loose formation back to the first compound and eagerly tore it down.
They encountered more of their men along the way, mostly those who had freed the miners, and they met several miners and accepted their gratitude in the form of hugs, handshakes and pounding on the backs so hard there would be bruises.
Bender invited them to also join in with clearing the log jam and march with them to the village. The ropes holding the dam in place were cut, the logs set on fire by pouring cooking oil on them. The fire spread, the hundreds of ropes still holding back the flotsam finally burned and parted, and like an island on fire, it floated majestically downriver leaving a legacy of oily gray smoke. The cheering of the men contrasted with the quiet of those who had been prisoners and hadn’t yet accepted their freedom.
Bender told his army of their plans, and more than half refused to accept any pay for their service. Most had taken items of value from the palace, but word had circulated that Bender and Tyler were only involved because they were doing what was right. Soon, none of the men wanted the week’s pay they had earned. More than a few declared they were going to settle on the banks of the river and start farms or build homes.
Bender said, “Someone needs to tell the bounty hunters across the river they’re out of business.”
Judge said, “They already know. They’re also seeing what we’re doing here, and if they have any sense they’ve already headed for the hills before we come after them. I wouldn’t want to be one of them after this. The people here will be after them soon enough.”
Tyler enjoyed the efforts of destroying all the Cabot holdings and meeting with those freed from slavery, in the palace or mines, however, every time he glanced around, the little girl called Prim was there, watching. Her eyes remained on him and Bender like a feral cat eyeing a slow mouse. She never let them out of her sight, and often Lucky was standing at her side. Tyler wanted to send her home, wherever that might be, but in a way, she had started the whole war with the Cabots when she prevented him and Bender from being captured. If not for her, they might be working deep in a mine today, with armed overseers whipping them.
“Prim, come over here,” he called.
She hesitated.
Tyler went to her instead. “What plans do you have?”
“I found out my family died in the mines. One of the survivors told me. They died months ago, and I didn’t even know.”
“I’m so sorry, but there was nothing you could have done.”
She said nothing, then lifted her chin. “You’re right. Nothing. Not then. But other slaves made it out because of you.”
“Listen, we have some gold we stole from the Cabots, so part of it is rightfully yours. I’ll wager someone in the village, or in Trenton, would love to have a beautiful daughter like you, and the money can be set aside for your future.”
“That sounds wonderful. But, I won’t accept your offer.”
“Why the hell not?” Tyler growled.
“I still have things to do. This isn’t finished, and you know it. You even said so.” Prim crossed her arms over her chest and waited. Then she gave Lucky a few pats on his good shoulder, the one without the sore that had almost healed.
Tyler had seen the same expression on Bender’s face enough times to know that he shouldn’t argue. She’d tell him what she wished to share, but otherwise, her mind was made up. They had sent out scouts to locate any other Cabot camps and destroy them. All the mines were freed, and the people were already returning to their homes. The small army returned to the village and held a party like none before.
There were fewer women, bu
t men danced with men, Judge and his daughters provided free ale for all, and men sang. A few fistfights broke out, but more were good-natured fisticuffs than not.
The pen holding the dragons drew Tyler’s attention as he entered the village. At first, he assumed the increase in their size was an illusion because they seemed to have doubled in a few days. Their new harnesses and leashes hung on the gate but had been made with expansion in mind.
As Tyler approached, one of the dragons lifted its head, sniffed, and hissed. The other started to do the same, but when it sensed Tyler it screamed in joy and raced to greet him, the small wings flapping wildly, and it screeched again. It reached the three-rail high gate and leaped over with the help of the little wings, landing a single step in front of Tyler, but moving so fast it couldn’t stop.
Its chest struck him just above his knees, throwing him down and onto his back. It leaped to his stomach, causing him to double over in pain, then it tried to reach his face with its nose while sniffing again. Tyler covered his face with his forearms and rolled. Rage leaped on top of his shoulder, and then onto his back as he rolled, like a lumberman rolling a log in a pond.
Nobody moved to help. It still tried to reach his face, screeching and calling to the other dragon. Tyler managed to get his arm locked around the beast’s chest and squeezed until the dragon stopped struggling. He stood and looked around, wondering what to do. Tyler reached for the chain harness on the fence and slipped it over the black neck. The dragon raced around, reached the end of the leash a few times, but soon discovered how far it could move and adjusted its range.
Tyler walked with a dragon at his side looking up and him with an adoring face. Those in front fled to let them pass, then turned to watch. Few of them had ever seen a dragon up close, and none had ever seen one on a leash, walking with a mother it loved.
“Who’s walking who?” Someone called with a mug raised high.
Tyler laughed, “I’m going where it wants.”
“That’s the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen, not counting that yellow one of yours,” a new voice called through the ale he’d consumed.
But, Tyler squared his shoulders proudly and walked from one end of the village to the other, pausing to let the dragon investigate anything it wished. He put the dragon back into the pen and headed for the inn, thanking each man he saw for helping with the battle, shaking their hands, and slapping them on their backs. More ale was thrust at him than a man could drink in a month, but he tried.
In the morning, he was awakened by Bender. Lucky stood near his bare feet. “Time for us to leave.”
Tyler had his pounding head resting on his backpack and wanted to talk to Bender about the contents he’d taken from the chest at the Cabot mansion, but knew the village was not the place. Too many of the men still wanted to talk, thank them, or pay their respects and they would be interrupted a dozen times. For two half-assed deserters, they hadn’t done too bad in the last few days.
They quietly went to the dragon cage and harnessed both. At the river, they selected a boat. Lucky was ready to leave. He jumped into the boat and waited.
Tyler said, “We have people to say goodbye to.”
“All taken care of,” Bender said. “But if we don’t get out of here before they wake, we’ll be here until sundown, or later. Maybe tomorrow.”
Tyler said, “Probably much later if there’s more ale for you and them to drink.”
“Me? What about you?”
“I’ve had enough for a few days.” The boat they selected was wider than most but shorter. It didn’t wobble nearly as much when one of the dragons shifted positions, which was good because neither dragon wanted to settle down. Bender rowed at first, and later, Tyler took over, although they did little more than taking a few leisurely strokes to keep the boat centered while the current carried them. The river bank slipped past, the sun warmed them, and after the excitement and strain of the past ten days, they needed time to relax.
“What did you want to talk about?” Bender finally asked.
“Look for a good place to put ashore. We need privacy to talk, and the animals need exercise.”
The river split, with a small island covered with trees near the center. Tyler pointed, “We could stay there and turn the dragons loose.”
“Do dragons swim?”
“How would I know? I’ve never seen them do it, but what does that mean? Nothing?”
Bender laughed, “It means, the island will do fine.”
Tyler had already turned the boat in that direction, and a few pulls on the oars sent the bow grating on the rough sand. Bender leaped out and pulled the boat higher, while Lucky, Thunder, and Rage leaped ashore and all three began sniffing and searching for anything of interest.
The dragons had grown from the size of small chickens to almost as large as turkeys in the days since they’d hatched. Tyler estimated they would be larger than Lucky in a few more, and Lucky was a large dog. Their wings had grown even faster. When first hatched, the wings were barely stubs, but now they folded neatly against the dragon’s bodies, and when extended they were impressive. Not filled out yet, or long enough to fly, they were growing fast enough to fascinate Tyler. He had the impression they would fly before long but didn’t know if that was true or just an impression.
The three animals began a game of chase, one running away and the other two chasing it, then they rotated jobs. They rolled, snapped at each other, screeched and barked as Tyler spread his blanket, laughing at them.
Bender also watched, but more critically. “Your dragon hisses at me whenever I get near. It’s going to bite me one day, and you should take the time to train it better.”
“Yours does the same to me.” Tyler said as he slipped his backpack off and said, “Remember when you sent me to get the chest that man mentioned?”
“Yes, where is it?”
“I left the chest, but the contents are in my pack.” He reached a hand inside and pulled out a fistful of bracelets, necklaces, rings, and other gold encrusted items.”
Bender rolled his eyes. “Oh, great. Not only do we have the gold coins we took from that fisherman family on the river, but now we have more wealth? More weight to carry?”
“You’re complaining?”
“In a way. We used to have no responsibilities when we were corporals, but to help the officers find the best wine and prettiest girls.”
“You know damn well we kept the best wine and girls for ourselves and gave them the rest.”
“Exactly my point. Now, we’re so rich we’ll have others doing those things for us while we sit around on our asses and count our money, and they’ll keep the best for themselves.” Bender watched the next fistful of jewelry be spread on the blanket. And the next until even his eyes widened in appreciation.
“I couldn’t just leave it there,” Tyler said with a smug expression.
“The gold in our purses is enough for you and me to buy good farms and hire people to run them while we spend all our time in the local pubs. When we’re old and feeble, we’ll still have coins to spend. But this? This is real wealth. We couldn’t spend all this in three lifetimes.”
Tyler pulled more from the backpack and piled it on top.
Bender said, “Four lifetimes. Of course, we could open an inn or pub, or both. Just for ourselves. And maybe a gambling house.”
“What’s the fun in that? Besides, this stuff is just the beginning.”
Bender drew a deep breath and waited. Tyler pulled the personal letters and notes out and placed them in a pile. “There is no telling what valuable information the Cabots put in those. But, I’ll bet we can find where they hide out, what they do, and who helped them. I thought we could turn them over to whoever is the king around here and maybe he’d arrest them or something.”
Bender smirked. “You’re right. We don’t know, but it would be fun to cause them a few problems.”
“I’ll bet the king won’t appreciate what’s in there, especially if it mentions h
im, or if they oppose him.”
“Okay, I agree. Those letters might incriminate them, but from your attitude, I expected more.”
Tyler said as he reached inside again, “That’s because you haven’t seen the best.” He placed the stack of legal papers in front of Bender and waited.
“What is that?”
“Deeds and other legal documents.”
Bender didn’t reach for them. “What are deeds?”
“Ownership papers. For land and buildings. That’s what the man at the palace was sent to recover, not the jewelry. Think about that for a second. Lord Cabot was willing to abandon all that gold and jewels, for that little stack of paper.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“The servant said that whoever has those papers in his possession legally owns the property listed, and he said those papers can be used as collateral; traded, sold, or given as gifts. Just as if the papers and property were coins.”
“They all have a stamp or seal. There is probably a royal office that tracks them.” Bender stopped talking and sat back as he thought. He reached out and took the one on top, opening it carefully. He read, “The track of land and buildings known as Bridgewater, from the southeast corner of the bridge along a line to the granite marker on the King’s Road with the triangle carved into the base . . .”
“These deeds must be worth far more than all the rest.”
Bender placed the document beside him as if it was made of glass, “It goes on to detail the borders, buildings, and slaves.”
Tyler examined the next deed. “A plot of land with a three-story building containing apartments on the two floors above shops on the street. It describes where the building is located in a city called Aston.”
