by Merry Farmer
“Aw no, not him!” Jack moaned and rolled his eyes at the sight of the man.
Pennington had come to Derby last autumn, ostensibly to barter peace between King Richard and Prince John. According to Crispin the man was nothing more than a richly-paid assassin. Jack couldn’t stand the pompous prick then and it looked like the winter hadn’t improved him one bit. Pennington stood in front of the carriage and stretched, reaching his stubby, royal liveried arms out to the side with a careless yawn before putting on a fake smile and glancing up to Crispin.
“Ah! Lord Crispin!” He ambled towards them.
“Pennington,” Crispin greeted him with a curt nod.
Pennington’s smile faltered at Crispin’s complete lack of deference. He twitched before his smile came back and he held out his hand. Crispin took it, face expressionless. “Congratulations on becoming Sheriff.” His grin was as oily as his moustache. “Oh, and earl. I heard all about it from Prince John. He says a worthier man has never held the office.”
“The Prince acted on behalf of the crown when he entrusted me with the care of the shire. I have a duty to obey.” Crispin met the veiled threat without flinching.
“I bet you do.” Pennington grinned as though he had meant something else entirely.
“I am eager for news from London,” Crispin got right to business. “We are curious to know what could be so important that a man such as yourself would be sent.” He glanced to Aubrey and Jack at his sides as he spoke.
Pennington’s smile turned sour as he glanced to Jack. “We?”
Jack didn’t need to do anything more than grin at the man with all the self-satisfaction he felt to get under his skin. “Lord John is my bailiff,” Crispin explained.
“Lord John. Yes, I’d heard.” Pennington wrinkled his nose. He cleared his throat and glanced away from Jack and up to Crispin. Jack rolled his eyes and rubbed his hand around the rosary on his wrist. “I’ve come to share our country’s great misfortune with you,” he went on as though announcing that he had brought tea and cakes for everyone.
Crispin’s scowl deepened. “Our great hall is being cleaned in preparation for an audience this afternoon and the banquet tonight.” He gestured towards the cloister and began to walk towards it. “I could have our cloister stationed with guards so that we might meet there.”
“What, no top secret heart-to-hearts in your bedroom?” Pennington referred to Buxton’s eccentricities as they walked across the courtyard.
Jack and Aubrey fell into step behind the two men, half an army of guards crowding in their wake. “You’ll find that things in Derby run very differently now that Buxton is gone,” Crispin told the man, back stiff. They entered the cloister, lined with servants already, and the guards closed ranks. “What is England’s great misfortune?”
Pennington shrugged. “Our king, of course.”
Crispin’s back and shoulders tightened. “In what way is the king England’s great misfortune?”
Pennington took his time answering. He rocked back and forth on his feet, swaying his ample, liveried body for a moment with a shrug before telling them all, “Alas, Leopold of Austria is no longer in custody of our good King Richard.” He waited for the surprise reaction he expected to receive and his face fell when all he was met with were blank stares. “No,” he went on, “Leopold has handed him over to the custody of Henry, the Holy Roman Emperor.”
Aubrey gasped. Jack figured it was bad news. “What’s the Holy Roman Emperor bloke plannin’ on doin’ with him?” he asked.
Pennington blinked and cleared his throat. “Oh, he plans to give Richard back,” he said without answering Jack directly then smoothed his hands along his tunic as if brushing off the dirt of speaking to a peasant. “He has asked for a ransom of one hundred and fifty thousand marks.”
Crispin met the news with very little outward reaction. Aubrey and Jack were not as stoic. Aubrey’s mouth dropped open and she grasped Crispin’s hand. Jack planted his hands on his hips and stared at the man as if he were out of his mind. “You’re not serious, mate.”
“Oh, I’m quite serious,” Pennington sniffed.
“One hundred and fifty thousand marks?” It was more money than any of them had ever heard of in one sum.
“Where does he expect this money to come from?” Crispin asked.
“From England, of course.” Pennington spread his hands as if the answer was simple.
“How?” Aubrey asked.
“Well now, that’s really up to you, isn’t it.” Pennington glanced up to Crispin, his eyes hardening to steel. “Taxes, levies, fine or tolls,” he shrugged. “Whichever methods work best for you. Extortion if you want to. Every shire will be expected to do their part. Derbyshire is no exception.”
“So you’ve come here to ask for more money, on top of the usual taxes, to ransom an absent king who has let his realm crumble into uncertainty.” Crispin took a small step closer to the man. Pennington took a large step back. “Why is Prince John allowing this ransom to be collected?”
“Ah. See, there’s the thing.” Pennington smoothed his moustache. “As great a man as Prince John is, he can only do so much with the provisions that Richard put into place for the government of England in his absence.”
“In other words he is being blocked and countered by men in London who claim allegiance to the king.” Crispin laughed mirthlessly and shook his head. “How much is Derbyshire expected to raise?”
“Ten thousand marks,” Pennington told him without pause.
Jack and Aubrey gaped at the sum. Crispin darkened even more. “Ten thousand marks is a disproportionate sum.”
Pennington shrugged. “Derbyshire is disproportionately wealthy.”
Crispin shook his head and pulled himself to his full height. “I’ll see what I can do about seventy-five hundred.”
Pennington laughed. “Ten thousand. Non-negotiable. Prince John has declared it. You are a friend of Prince John’s, right?” He met Crispin’s intimidating stare with unyielding frankness. “Oh, and I’ll be taking some of that upfront. Whatever you have in your treasury should do.”
A stab of panic hit Jack’s gut. He might not have known anything about anything, but even he knew that emptying the treasury in one go would spell disaster for Derbyshire.
“The Prince will get his ten thousand,” Crispin muttered. “When it has been collected.”
“Of course.” Pennington bared his teeth in what might have been a smile. “Now show me to my room and have someone send up some of that fantastic roast boar Buxton always had ready for my visits.”
Crispin nodded at one of the liveried servants along the edge of the cloister who jumped forward to escort Pennington into the castle. He then turned to Jack and Aubrey with a wordless sigh.
It was Jack who spoke the words they were all thinking. “Where the hell are we gonna get ten thousand marks?”
In the shadows of the corridor that opened out to the cloister, Ethan and his men listened to Pennington’s revelation. Toby met the news with a troubled scowl. He stole a sideways glance at his master. Ethan was clearly conflicted. Toby was certain that his master wanted King Richard home as soon as possible and equally as certain that he wouldn’t take it well if Crispin and Jack were instrumental in the return.
“Come on,” Ethan whispered over his shoulder, turning to dash down a side corridor. “I’ve heard enough.” Roderick followed him. Tom lingered by the door. “Come on, Tom!” Ethan cut back to get him.
“He … he looks well,” Tom muttered, face slack. Toby followed his line of sight. He was watching Jack. “He’s gained weight. He looks fit, happy.”
“We don’t have time to stand around contemplating how much Lord Jack has been eating,” Ethan frowned and yanked Tom away, pushing him on.
“A hundred and fifty thousand marks!” Toby’s thoughts flew back to the problem at hand as they skittered down a side hall and out into the castle gardens. “I can’t believe it!”
“Well, believe
it.”
“What do you think Huntingdon will do to raise ten thousand marks?” Tom asked as they neared the corner of the wall where they had left the cart they’d snuck in with.
Ethan didn’t answer. He motioned for them to wait until the way was clear. “Whatever it is,” he nodded for them to sprint forward, “you can bet that we’ll put an end to it.”
Toby stopped near the cart as Roderick shot past him, bending over to catch his breath. “Yes, but do we really want to stop him if it means bringing the king home?”
Toby’s thoughts were cut short when Joanna walked out of the kitchen door. She glanced up and gasped, her eyes popping in surprise. Ethan froze and for the briefest moment his dark frown of concentration melted away into a cocky grin.
“Well hello,” he turned on all of his charm even as her surprise hardened to irritation. “Who are you?”
“Joanna!” Toby ran forward, pushing past Ethan. He threw his arms around his sister and hugged her close. Then he all but fell to his knees in front of her. “Please don’t tell! Please don’t tell!”
Ethan blinked and glanced from Toby to his sister. “Joanna Dunkirke?” he asked, taking another look at her. “It can’t be.”
Joanna took one look at the way Ethan was making eyes at her and pursed her lips before ignoring him, planting her hands on her hips, and turning all of her attention to her brother. “I warned you, Toby,” she shook her head, “Didn’t I say if I ever caught him in Derby Castle I would turn you in?”
“Yes, I know, but-” Toby stammered.
Joanna reached out and put a hand on Toby’s face, leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then tore off past them and out into the courtyard shouting, “Help! Thieves! Brigands! Ethan of Derbywood and his gang!” She kept running through the courtyard towards the cloister.
Ethan’s face dropped. “I thought she was on our side.” He jumped into the cart’s seat as Tom and Roderick scrambled into the back.
Toby covered the deep blush coming to his face by hauling himself into the seat by Ethan’s side. “No, my lord, she’s not.”
“Pity,” Ethan smirked and snapped the reigns.
Chapter Three
“Oy! I bloody knew it!” Jack hollered as he ran out of the cloister along with Crispin and Aubrey after Joanna sounded the alarm. “I knew I saw those bloody wankers loiterin’ about the place!”
The three of them met Joanna in the center of the courtyard. “They came from the garden,” she reported.
“How long have they been here?” Crispin demanded.
“I don’t know, my lord.”
“I’m goin’ after them,” Jack growled.
“Jack, no, wait!” Crispin called after him as he sprinted for the stables. He wasn’t in the mood to be held back
Several horses belonging to Derbyshire nobles were being lodged in the stables, some already saddled and ready to go. Jack mounted the first one he reached and kicked it to a run. It was a good steed and shot him like an arrow past Crispin, still yelling at him in the courtyard, and out of Derby Castle’s gate into the city. Townspeople leapt out of his way as he charged through narrow streets.
The cart was nowhere in sight by the time he galloped through the city gates and into the countryside, but there was only one place it could have gone. He leaned low over his horse’s neck and charged along the road toward the Derbywood. There was a fair amount of trade traveling the streets but none of the carts resembled Ethan’s. By the time he galloped into the woods itself the road was empty.
“Come out, you bloody bastard!” he reined his horse to a stop and shouted when he was deep in the forest. “Ethan!”
The creaking branches overhead blocked much of the sunlight. The spring breeze whispered through the undergrowth. Jack’s mount shifted with anxious steps as Jack turned him this way and that, peering into the murmuring woods. The road that wound through Derbywood was empty but Jack could feel eyes on him from every direction.
“Bloody hell.” He swallowed, nudging his horse to walk on. “I bloody hate the forest,” he told it, patting its neck to soothe himself. “Ethan! You’d better show yourself, you arse-sniffing coward!” Nothing like a good yell to give a man courage under pressure. “What do you think you’re on about, sneakin’ around the castle like that!”
A huge bird of some sort flapped its way through the trees above and Jack flinched in spite of himself. The swaying branches gave him the feeling that the canopy was closing in on him. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but it seemed to be getting darker.
“Oy, now I know why Crispin hollered at me, mate.” He leaned over his horse’s neck and gave him another pat. “Let’s get the hell outta here.”
“Hello?” A high, echoing call further down the road caught his attention. “Hello? Is someone there?”
Jack sat straight in his saddle and kicked his horse to a trot towards the voice. Ahead on the road, by the front feet of a tired gray horse, crouched a woman with long honey-blonde hair. Jack’s eyes blinked wide as she stood, smoothing her hands across the generous curve of her hips. Her hips weren’t the only generous curves she had.
“Can you help me?”
He had to shake himself and force his eyes up when he realized he was staring at the low-cut front of her bodice. “Yeah, I can help.” He slid from his saddle, the rosary around his wrist cinching tight as it caught the side of the saddle. Puffing himself up more than he knew was good for him, he strode towards the woman. “What seems to be the problem, mate?”
The woman stared at him with a furrowed brow, giving him the same up-and-down look that every prissy nob in the shire gave him when he opened his mouth. “My horse has thrown a shoe,” she explained, gesturing to the natty old gray’s front feet.
Jack glanced down and sure enough, the horse’s left front foot was rough around the edges. “Bad luck that.” He shifted his weight to one hip and sent the woman his best saucy grin. “How long have you been stuck here?”
She met his look with a wicked smirk of her own. “Hours. All day. Can you help me?”
“Depends.” He shrugged, crossing his arms. “What kinda help were you looking for?”
The flirtatious twinkle in her eyes deepened as she glanced down and sent him a look through long lashes. “I suppose I need a ride.”
Jack grabbed his wrist, pressing the beads of the rosary into his flesh until it hurt. Anything to keep him out of the trouble that was standing right in front of him. He took a deep breath and pushed his thoughts, and a few other things, down. “Where are you headed?” He switched to a pure, neighborly tone, reaching for the reins of the woman’s horse.
“To Derby,” she answered.
“Oy! Lucky for you, that’s where I’m goin’ too.” It was close enough to the truth. There was no way he would find Ethan now. He walked the woman’s horse up to his own mount and looked for a way to tie the reins to his saddle. “How’d you end up all stranded out here all by yourself with a lame horse?”
“I was attacked by a band of outlaws at first light,” the woman sighed, her perfect chest heaving as she shuddered.
“Ethan,” Jack growled, almost missing the intoxicating swell. Almost.
“Who?” The woman batted her eyelashes at him as he jerked the knot in the reins tight.
“The folks that attacked you on the road. Was there a man named Ethan with them? Or Toby or Tom or Roderick?”
“I… I don’t know.” Her eyelids fluttered and her cheeks flushed. “They didn’t give their names. They didn’t give anything. They just took.”
“Yeah?” Jack scowled. “What’d they take?”
“Everything.” She looked up, eye glittering with that light that made his chausses feel tight again. “Everything,” she repeated with significance, resting a hand between the cleft of her round breasts.
Hail Madeline, full of grace…. He turned away from her to mount his horse. “Yeah, we got a bit of an outlaw problem in the forest at the moment.”
“Yeah.” He grunted as he lifted her onto the saddle in back of him. She ground her hips against him as she settled. “Me and Crispin,” he croaked. He nudged his horse to turn, the gray following, and started a swift walk back along the road to Derby. The woman’s arms snaked around his waist.
“You and…,” the woman faltered. “No! You’re not … Are you Lord John of Kedleridge?”
Jack twisted in his saddle to look over his shoulder at her. “You heard of me then?”
For a moment she looked as though she’d swallowed a silver farthing. “You’re really Lord John of Kedleridge?”
“Yeah, I am,” he laughed. “Oy, I see my reputation has preceded me.”
“Well, it’s just that-” She stopped. Jack twisted around to see her staring at his back. Her mouth was half open in surprise and a twinkle that would have given him the willies if she hadn’t been such a looker lit her eyes. “I’ve always been lucky,” she started up again, laughing, “but this, well, this is extraordinary!”
“Oh yeah?” He shifted to look forward, fiddling with the rosary and wishing they could get out of the forest a little quicker.
“I was just on my way to Derby to find you.”
“You were?” A tingle shot down his spine, but whether it was from her revelation or the way she reached her hands up to grasp his chest and squeeze him tighter he couldn’t tell.
“Yes. My lord,” she added the last in a low purr.
“Why?” He squirmed in his saddle. Hail Madeline, full of grace, blessed art thou among women….
“My sister married a Kedleridge man, my lord. When I heard that the old lord had died and that a new one had been appointed in his place, well, I just had to come see for myself.”
“Oy, there ain’t much to see, mate,” he chuckled, wondering why Simon had chosen such a hot tunic for him to wear.
