by Merry Farmer
Simon intercepted him and thrust the fancy tunic at his chest. “Until you decide on your heraldry and visit a tailor this will have to suffice, my lord.”
Jack took the tunic with a groan and shrugged into it. “I don’t see you wearing anything poofdy like this.” He frowned at the man’s plain black chausses and vest over a faded gray shirt. It was nice of him to wear black when Kedleridge’s colors had been blue and gold. Then again, Simon had been wearing black when Jack met him.
“It is not my place to dress in finery, my lord.”
“Aw, sure.” Jack smoothed the dreaded tunic in place over his shoulders, kicking the overlong hem. “Never mind that you single-handedly ran this place for how long before it dropped in my lap?” He had intended his words to be a show of camaraderie, but the statement made Simon’s eyes go cold.
“I am just the steward, my lord.” Simon bowed, voice tight.
“Yeah, right.” Jack shuffled over to the bedside table to retrieve his rosary and wound it around his wrist again. Simon was ‘just the steward’ about as much as he was ‘just a noble’. “Come on then.” He headed for the door and the tiny hallway that ended in a small gallery and a steep staircase.
“Your boots, my lord,” Simon called after him.
“Bring ‘em with you!” he shouted back.
He was already near the bottom of the stairs in his stocking feet and the tantalizing sight of Imogene and Alice unloading their trays onto the table in the main hall had his mouth watering. The food didn’t look half bad either. He strode over to the table with a broad grin, resting a hand on each of the women’s shoulders when he reached them. “What have you ladies brought me this morning?” he flirted. “Oy! Bacon! Nice!” He launched forward to sit in the heavy chair at the head of the table. “You spoil me.” He raised an eyebrow as he grabbed for a piece of bacon and stuck it in his mouth.
Both girls flushed bright red as they giggled and grinned. “I’ve poached you some eggs, my lord,” Imogene told him through long, dark lashes, taking a plate of eggs from the tray she had been carrying and setting it in front of him.
“And I’ve baked those honey cakes you like so much, my lord,” Alice added, blond curls bobbing as she set a basket of warm, round cakes beside the eggs.
“Excellent!” He grabbed a honey cake and bit into it while reaching for a fork and using it to cut into the eggs.
“My lord.” Simon marched down the stairs and around the corner, holding Jack’s boots. When he saw the two young girls hovering at the side of their master’s chair he narrowed his eyes. Their giddy grins vanished and they straightened in an instant, bobbing quick curtsies and rushing out of the room towards the pantry. “There isn’t time to dawdle today,” Simon continued as if nothing had happened. “The Earl specifically asked that I hurry you along.”
“Yeah, well he would,” Jack spoke with his mouth full. He grinned at the thought of his friend. Single-minded determination had won Crispin his land, his title, and his wife, Aubrey. It had won him the whole bloody earldom of Derby. Jack blessed his stars that the man was his friend. But it didn’t mean he could go calling him at all hours, forcing him to skip a breakfast of bacon and eggs and honey cakes.
“So Simon,” Jack gestured with a piece of bacon to the man who stood holding his boots as if they were scepters, “what are you gonna get up to today?”
“My lord?” He tilted his head a fraction in response.
Jack swallowed his bacon before continuing. “You know. While I’m off being Bailiff of Derby and making sure that Prince John is happy as a bluebird,” he winked. “What’s gonna be goin’ on around here? Gotta keep track of my own land, now that I have it, ‘n all.”
Simon raised one pointed eyebrow and shifted his weight before answering. “The planting isn’t quite finished in the north field,” he recited. “There’s that to see to. Morton tells me that the stable roof needs repairing.”
“Who’s Morton?” Jack took a last bite of eggs as he searched his brain to see if he could come up with a face to fit the name.
“He’s the master of your horses, my lord.” Simon hid his impatience behind flat eyes.
“I only got one horse.”
“The estate has three,” Simon reminded him. “Therefore, you have four horses.”
Jack pushed his chair back. “Horses are what got me into this mess in the first place.”
“My lord?”
Jack shook his head with a grin as he stood. “You’d never believe me if I told you.” He walked over to his steward and slapped his back. The man bristled like a hedgehog. “How ‘bout them boots then.” Simon handed him the boots. Jack grabbed the man’s arm for balance while he leaned over and thrust his feet one at a time into the tight new boots, stamping into them until they felt secure. Simon’s face remained impassive. “Nah, but what else are you gonna do? I suppose I should know what folks get up to around here if I’m supposed to be in charge and all.”
Simon stiffened. “I will be collecting the plow tax, my lord.”
“Plow tax?” Jack asked. “What’s that all about?”
Simon took a deep, steadying breath. “It is a yearly tax levied on the farmers for use of your plow, my lord.” He walked to the mantle to fetch Jack’s belt and sword.
“Didn’t know I owned a plow.” He smiled at the man and took the belt from him, fastening it around his waist before reaching out to thump his steward on the back again. “Thanks, Simon. I owe you plenty.” He tugged at his horrible tunic to straighten it and turned to head out the door and down the steps to the narrow gravel path that lead to the road.
Kedleridge was too small to have a common in the center of the village the way Windale did but there was a fair gap between the front door of the manor house and the first of the villager’s small thatched cottages. As he walked out to the road Jack grinned at one of the farmer’s wives who swept her front step and waved at her with a friendly, “Hello!” The startled woman glanced around to see if anyone was there to watch her wave back to her master as he passed. He tilted his head up to the sunshine and drew in a deep breath of the blossom-filled air, bursting with contentment. “Morning again, Alice.” He winked at the round-faced girl as she stuck her head out of the kitchen door. She giggled and ducked back inside. He laughed and shook his head, gripping the beads of the rosary around his left wrist.
As Jack reached the stable the young stable boy bowed and presented a brown and white mare, already saddled and ready. “Your horse, my lord.”
“Oy! Don’t call me that,” he scolded the boy, giving him a cheerful grin and a wink before taking the reins.
It all worked smoothly, like one seamless dance of readiness. He fit his foot in the stirrup and pulled himself up to mount. Yes, like one machine of efficiency. A machine that had nothing even remotely to do with him.
He glanced up to the house, watching as Simon came out into the sunshine, one of the house boys following behind as he issued orders. He crossed the yard and strode on towards the village. One glance at the stable boy’s round eyes as he saw Simon confirmed what Jack with all his newly granted titles and land couldn’t deny. There went the real lord of Kedleridge.
The morning sunlight filtered through the leafy canopy of the forest of Derbywood. Shafts of bright sunlight struck at the weathered tents and stone-rimmed fire pits of Derbywood Camp. Toby paced in front of the large tent at the center of the camp, trying his best not to listen to the grunting and sighing and moaning that was going on inside. His face glowed red with shame and he crossed his arms over his chest as he tried to block out the sound of the young woman’s sighs of ecstasy and the matching cries from Ethan.
Ever since Huntingdon had released them from the dungeons of Derby Castle at New Year’s Ethan had been growing more and more reckless. Toby would have thought that the surprise second chance they had been given would have been enough to prompt his master to turn over a new leaf, to seek his fortune elsewhere. Instead he had come back to Derbywood C
amp, declaring he was no longer Ethan of Windale but now Ethan of Derbywood.
Ethan’s new vassals, or so he viewed them, were a crafty people, to be sure, but their skills were put to use robbing travelers on the road as much as to planting gardens in the forest. But it was the women that set Toby’s nerves on edge. The moment Ethan realized Aubrey didn’t want him, never would want him, he wanted every woman that he saw.
Toby raised his hands halfway to his ears as the commotion in the tent continued. He lowered them to his sides and straightened, clearing his throat, when he saw Tom and Roderick approaching across the circular common. He put on his best stern face, an expression that looked out of place on his soft features.
Tom Tanner frowned at the noise coming from the tent as they approached. “Is he still at it?” he asked, just as unable to look at the tent as Toby.
“Yes.” Toby held his chin up with pride in his office even as the pride in his master dwindled. He flicked a sideways glance to Roderick, who wore a hideous grin as he stared at the tent’s flap. He cleared his throat and glanced back to Tom, fumbling for something to say. “How’s the well coming along?”
Tom turned his back on the tent. “We’re having to dig deeper than we first thought.” Toby nodded as he focused his attention on Tom while the moaning in the tent reached its climax in a final ecstatic cry of “Yes!” from the woman. Tom cleared his throat and went on. “It’s still better than having to haul water up from the creek.”
“Well, yes, that goes without saying,” Toby raised his voice as the tent grew quiet. “I’m sure it will help with the care of the horses.”
“I guess it will.”
The rough-and-tumble forest people had taken more than strongboxes and jewels from the caravans they had waylaid. Ethan had insisted that they take horses too, and as the number of horses in their corral grew so did the number of mounted men working with them.
They were spared the embarrassment of trying to think of other pointless things to say and plunged into a deeper embarrassment when the tent flap flew open and Ethan stepped out into the morning sunlight, smug grin on his face. He finished shrugging on the dark green tunic one of his bits of fun had made, then stretched his arms wide, yawning in satisfaction, before walking up between Tom and Toby and throwing an arm around each of their shoulders. “Beautiful morning, lads, isn’t it.” Roderick’s toothy grin dropped when he wasn’t included in the trio.
“Yes, my lord.” Toby failed to meet his eyes.
Ethan leaned on his friends. “The sun is shining, the air is getting warmer every day, and we’re free and alive!” He straightened himself and slapped his friends on the back, nearly knocking Toby flat. Toby exchanged a wary glance with Tom as Ethan noticed Roderick. “Roderick, what are you doing here?” He took the boy’s hand and reached around to thump him on the back. “How’s life treating you?”
“Good, my lord,” Roderick forced a smile. He shot a wolfish glance to Tom and Toby. “I was just-”
Ethan ignored him as the tent flap opened behind them and his companion of the night stepped out. Roderick’s eyes widened before narrowing in suspicion. The woman had golden blonde hair that spilled over her shoulders in a silky curtain. She glanced to Ethan, a saucy grin on her curving lips. He swept her into his arms. “You, Lydia, are beautiful.” He pulled her obscenely close and kissed her eager mouth.
Toby snapped his head away and blinked up at the canopy of trees above them.
“And you,” Lydia purred back, “certainly do know how to show a girl a good time.”
“What a lucky coincidence that your carriage was traveling through our neck of the woods.” Toby turned in time to see his master grab a handful of Lydia’s behind before snapping his head away again. “Come back and visit next time you’re on your way to Derby.”
“Oh, I will,” Lydia hummed back, reaching for the bulge in Ethan’s chausses and giving it a squeeze. “How could I resist?”
Ethan leaned in to suck on her lips some more but Tom cut him off with, “Sir!” He cleared his throat when Ethan leaned away from Lydia and glared at him. “Ethan, there’s something you need to hear about.”
Ethan sighed as he broke away from Lydia and faced business. “Can it wait until after I’ve had my breakfast?”
Toby caught a flash of alarm from Lydia. He followed her glance to see what had caused it. Roderick scowled back at her. Toby’s eyes shot to Lydia again. Her face had undergone a transformation, flattening into a scowl. He watched as the woman and the boy stared each other down, an itching coldness spreading down his spine.
“It shouldn’t wait, sir,” Tom shuffled. “The earl has sent a letter to Lord John of Kedleridge.”
“Kedleridge?” Lydia blinked in surprise.
Ethan’s face hardened into a scowl. “Jack sent us a letter?”
“Who’s Jack?” Lydia planted a hand on her curving hip.
“He’s a traitor,” Ethan spat.
“He’s my brother,” Tom mumbled. “And no, he didn’t send us a letter. We intercepted a summons sent by the earl.”
Ethan’s jaw twitched. “The earl should know better. I doubt the peasant upstart can read.”
“Peasant?” Lydia interrupted again. “Jack? Hold on, didn’t you just say Lord John of … of Kedleridge?”
“He’s lying, traitorous peasant scum,” Ethan growled.
“Jack Tanner was granted the lands and title of Kedleridge by Prince John,” Roderick imitated Ethan’s distain.
“Kedleridge? But I thought-” Lydia started then snapped her mouth shut. She met Roderick’s eyes for half a second before focusing on Ethan.
“What did the letter say, Tom?” Ethan went on.
“It was a dispatch from Huntingdon, calling Jack to Derby castle with all due haste. An emissary from London is arriving in Derby today.”
“An emissary?” Ethan’s scowl flickered to curiosity. “From the crown?”
“It appears so,” Tom nodded.
To Toby’s surprise, Ethan’s face brightened. “Then this is our chance!”
“Our chance for what, my lord?” Toby asked.
“For revenge.” Ethan turned to march toward the corral and the tent where the weapons were stored. Roderick jumped after him.
“My lord!” Toby cleared his throat and chased them. “Don’t tell me you’re going to Derby.”
“Fine.” Ethan pivoted and walked backwards. “I won’t tell you.”
“But why, my lord? Huntingdon let us go, although heaven only knows why. You can’t risk getting caught again. We won’t be so lucky next time.”
Ethan stopped and Toby came close to plowing into him. “Huntingdon ruined my life.” Ethan poked a finger into Toby’s chest. “He took my land, took my woman, and made me look like a fool. Him and his little lapdog Jack.”
Tom jogged to catch up with them and the woman Lydia followed, eyes sparkling as she eavesdropped. “Wait, who is this Huntingdon?” she asked.
“He’s the new Earl of Derby and the Sheriff of the shire,” Tom answered.
“I thought Buxton was the Sheriff.”
Tom shook his head. “Huntingdon killed him.”
“And this Huntingdon has favor with Prince John?” Tom nodded. “And the new lord of Kedleridge whose name is either Jack or John has won the prince’s favor as well?”
“He has,” Tom seethed. “Not that he deserved it, the traitorous pillock.”
“I won’t let them get away with it!” Ethan shouted. “If an emissary is coming from London I want him to see just how big of a mistake Prince John made putting his faith in those two losers.”
“But my lord-”
“If Derbyshire descends into lawlessness then when King Richard comes home he’ll overturn Prince John’s appointments,” Ethan went on.
“Let’s see how he likes being homeless and alone!” Tom added. All eyes turned to him. There was no need to ask who he meant.
“But my lord,” Toby all but wept in frustration, �
�what if you are caught?”
“We won’t get caught. Not this time.” He stormed off towards the horses.
“Too right,” Tom muttered, jogging after him, Roderick in tow.
Toby sighed. “Here we go again.” He cast a disapproving look at Lydia.
“I mean, I heard that Lord Hugh of Kedleridge was dead,” she went on as though still having the conversation, “but I always assumed….” She shut her mouth, her eyes glazing over with thought.
Toby waited but she didn’t go on. “Yes, well, it would be best if you were on your way.” He gestured to shoo her away, turning to chase after Ethan.
“It certainly would.” Lydia rushed off in a different direction.
Chapter Two
Derby Castle should have struck dread into Madeline’s heart considering she had been locked in a room at the top of the High Tower with Sister Bernadette for weeks last summer. But as she slogged the final mile towards the city, her feet and back aching, covered in the dust of a long, tiresome road, the sight of the castle was enough to bring her to tears. Jack might be there now, waiting for her to come home to him. The memory of him scaling the tower and hanging outside her window just to make sure she was alright sent her heart twirling in her chest.
She doubled her pace, wiping her streaming eyes with the sleeve of the shapeless peasant dress she’d traded her hassock for more than a week ago. The city was buzzing with activity. More than a few of the merchants, minor nobles, and even a few peasants stared at her with upturned noses as she rushed past. She knew she looked a fright. She hadn’t bathed since leaving the convent for fear of being discovered or having her clothes stolen. Her cropped hair was matted and sticking up in places, colorless with dirt, and her face was as grubby as a beggar.
“Just where do you think you’re going, boy.” The guard at the castle gate mistook her entirely.
“I… well, I….” Madeline shuffled under the guard’s intimidating glare. She dropped her head and wrung her hands. This was not how her reunion with Jack was supposed to happen. “I’m here to see … Jack?” She risked a glance up at the guard.
