The Faithful Heart

by Merry Farmer

  “Oy! You will not burn my orchard!”

  “I’ll kill her!” Madeline’s shout at his side shocked him so much he stumbled before he could charge after Lydia. Madeline was one step ahead of him. She had grabbed a sword and tore into the orchard with a battle cry that would have brought down the stoutest men.

  It was funny for half a second. His heart dropped into his stomach and he ran after her.

  Tom shouted as loud as any of the experienced soldiers as they charged down the hillside and pounded into the flaming heart of Kedleridge, swords drawn. He intended to press on to the crush of men further down the hill, to the spot where he had seen Toby killed. But his heart failed him when he reached the chaos of the village. He pulled his horse to a stop, letting the thundering flash of horses and armored men surge past him and on to clash with Lydia’s men.

  He dismounted as soon as the crush of horses was past, stumbling when his feet hit the ground and careening backwards, tripping over a body. He spun around in horror at the thick heat of the fires all around him and the broken and bleeding bodies of villagers on every side.

  The concentration of men and steel and blood that had surrounded Kedleridge when he rode over the hill was spreading out. The villagers now clamored to put out the fires. From horseback the soldiers easily drove the mercenaries to scatter, swinging their swords and taking clear shots at them as they ran. Even the crossbow bolts that zipped through the air now and then did no more than bounce off of the guards’ armor or sink into arms or legs for minimal damage.

  Tom caught the flash of Jack’s ginger hair as he ran into the orchard after Madeline. He jumped into action, hurrying through the chaos towards the storehouse, intending to follow his brother. As he drew closer the heat of the fire at the end of the orchard blasted him. Half of the near corner of the orchard was ablaze, the sickly sweet smell of baking apples filling the air along with the scent of soot and ash and blood. Villagers rushed towards it with buckets of water and blankets, fighting to contain the blaze.

  When Tom rounded the corner at the front of the storehouse he stopped short at the sight that waited for him. Ethan, his face smeared with dirt and ash, his tunic singed and torn, knelt on the ground, his arms around the pale and bloody form of Toby. His face was contorted in grief and he rocked back and forth. Tom’s heart broke at the sight. Blood completely soaked the front of Toby’s otherwise pristine tunic.

  He couldn’t stand to see his friends lying in the road surrounded by death and fire. He rushed forward, dropping to his knees and scooping Toby’s lifeless form out of Ethan’s arms. A moan of anguish escaped from Ethan. Tom stood, carrying Toby with him, looking for shelter. Ethan didn’t seem capable of moving from his spot slumped in the dirt. Tom sent him a useless, pitying glance before heading towards the storehouse.

  He was not prepared for what met him. Aubrey lay on the ground, her back propped against a basket of fruit, howling in pain. Her nightgown was hitched well up over her hips and Crispin crouched between her legs, face pale and eyes wide with panic. He thought he could see the hint of a dark round head making its way into the world. He looked away only to see Joanna hunched over Simon’s body as he lay pale and crumpled on his side. He rushed to lay Toby on the floor beside Simon, throat constricting in misery.

  “Joanna,” he spoke softly to her.

  “No!” She sobbed. “I don’t want to look. I can’t look. He can’t be gone. He can’t!”

  Tom didn’t know what else to do but whisper, “I’m sorry.”

  “He’s all I have. He can’t be dead. I won’t believe it. Simon needs my help!” An eerie glaze of purpose made her wild eyes bright as she focused on freeing the crossbow bolts from Simon’s back.

  “You have to stop, Joanna.”

  She shook her head, eyes red with tears. “Toby is fine. It’s Simon that needs help. I can’t get them out,” Joanna sobbed. Her hands were slick with bright red blood as she gripped the bolt that protruded from Simon’s lower back. “I can’t get them out. I can’t … I can’t….”

  Tom leapt over Simon and squatted next to her as she sobbed, face pale, hands shaking. He pushed her hands away. The bolts had penetrated Simon’s body but not near his heart. “You can’t take them out, Joanna,” he explained in a quiet voice. “He could die.”

  Her eyes flickered up to see her brother’s body. “He … he … he’s dead,” Joanna sobbed and collapsed into Tom’s arms. “Toby!” Tom tried to hold her close but she struggled out of his arms and scrambled over Simon. She threw herself at her brother and wailed over his prone form.

  Tom let out a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and crossing himself. He swallowed and opened his eyes, focusing on Simon amidst Joanna’s mad cries filling the room. He tightened his hand around one of the bolts in Simon’s back. Neither of them had sunk deep. If they had hit Simon’s ribs instead of his vital organs maybe he still had a chance.

  Ethan hobbled into the barn, eyes hollow, and collapsed beside Toby and Joanna. Joanna’s cries stopped abruptly and she recovered herself enough to straighten. Without looking at Ethan she smoothed Toby’s hair from his lifeless face. She smiled at the distant grin he still wore. Ethan reached for Toby’s arms, pulling them across his blood-soaked tunic and crossing them over his shredded heart. He took Joanna’s hands and pressed them over Toby’s then covered her hands with his. Joanna closed her eyes and wept.

  Tom whipped his head around as Aubrey cried out in shock and pain and Crispin shouted in surprise as the hearty cry of their baby’s first wailing breath split the air. It was echoed moments later by a low, weak groan from Simon. His eyes flew back to the steward.

  “He’s not dead!” Tom shouted, unexpected hope filling him.

  “It’s a boy!” Crispin announced to Aubrey as he cradled his son in his arms, eyes alight with wonder.

  The heavy-laden branches of the orchard trees muffled most of the sound coming from the village. Even the smell of smoke was drowned by the crisp scent of leaves and grass. Madeline gripped her swords, teeth bared as she ran through the trees. Jack was half a step behind her, Lydia several yards ahead.

  “Stop and face me, you bitch!” she screamed. She had never known hatred like this was possible. “You won’t get away with this!”

  Lydia jumped over a protruding root and changed directions, sprinting off to the side. Madeline stumbled as she tried to make the change, falling to her knees.

  Jack stopped to help her to her feet. “What are you doing?” he panted.

  “I won’t let her do this, Jack! I won’t let her destroy our home and steal our lives like this!”

  She wrenched away from him and charged after Lydia again.

  “I stole your life?” Lydia wheeled around to face them, nothing but a torch to defend herself. “You took everything I ever wanted!”

  “You’re nothing but a conniving cow!” Madeline lunged at her, sword outstretched.

  “Madeline, stop!” Jack jumped after her.

  Lydia batted away the poorly-aimed thrust with her torch. Madeline lost her grip and dropped the sword. With a mad light in her eyes Lydia threw the flaming torch at her skirt then turned and ran.

  Madeline shrieked as her shift caught fire.

  “Madeline!” Jack ran to her and slapped at the flames. He was able to put the fire out but as his glance shot up to Lydia’s retreating back the flames of another fire flared hotter.

  “Right, I am through with this!” He charged after her.

  Madeline broke into a run as Jack raced to catch Lydia. The trees around them swayed and clawed at them as they ducked and dodged their roots and branches. Lydia glanced over her shoulder, eyes wild with panic, and changed directions again. Madeline was ready this time and cut to follow her without stumbling. She gained on her, shoving past Jack and shouting with a wordless cry of vengeance. Lydia pushed on as hard and fast as she could, ignoring everything but escape.

  “Stop!” Jack shouted behind her with a whole new kind of al
arm as they reached the end of the trees. Madeline gasped as he tackled her, throwing her to the ground and covering her body with his. Lydia shot ahead, out of the orchard and into the apiary. Jack tried to cover Madeline’s head but she struggled to get away, thinking of nothing but strangling Lydia.

  Moments later she saw why Jack was covering her and stopped struggling, watching in horror.

  Lydia barreled into the nearest beehive, sending it tumbling over into its neighbor. Her momentum carried her on, smashing into another hive and another as she lost her balance. Each hive that she upset spewed forth a hoard of angry bees. They swarmed, turning the air black as it filled with a roaring buzz. Lydia screamed as the bees attacked. They closed in on her from all sides, stinging every inch of her face and arms, getting caught in her clothes as she swatted and stumbled. Her screams grew louder, harsher as she fell to her knees. The noise was deafening as the bees swarmed together to protect their hives, their queens, their land.

  Madeline hid her face under Jack’s arms as Lydia’s screams turned into sick, choking cries, her cries drowned out by the angry hum that grew in intensity until it made the trees and the earth shake. Lydia fell on her face, her whole body covered in one black mass. The swarm threatened to spread out, to expand to the surrounding trees.

  Jack used his body to shelter Madeline as they slunk back across the ground, keeping as low as they could until they were far enough to jump to their feet and turn to run.

  They didn’t stop running until they made it back through the orchard and out into the road in front of the storehouse. The battle was over. All that was left were soldiers picking over the dead and helping the villagers to put out the last of the fires. The manor was destroyed and some of the houses and trees near to it, but Kedleridge as a whole had made it through.

  A group of villagers near the sweet-smelling charred remains of the trees closest to the blackened manor saw them emerge from the orchard, sooty, bloodied, and bruised. “My lord!” one of them yelled, “You’re alive!”

  A wave of rejoicing swept through the exhausted, battered people. Eyes that had been bleak with despair brightened, white teeth standing out through grimy faces. The forest girl Kitty broke away from a cluster of children that had been herded into a pasture apart from the now smoldering buildings. She ran straight for Jack, throwing her arms around his waist and burying her head against his stomach.

  “I’m alright,” he half-laughed, half-grunted in pain as she pressed his battle wounds. “We’re gonna be alright.”

  Madeline smiled uncontrollably as she wiped the tears that cut lines through her dirty face. The Kedleridge people crowded in on them, weeping themselves amidst their beaming smiles of relief, surging forward to touch her and Jack to be sure that they were really there. Madeline’s heart swelled with pride as she watched Jack shake hands with each of them and hug them, bruised, filthy, but not beaten.

  He met her eyes and broke away from them to sweep her into his arms and kiss her, fiercer than any fire. A spattering of applause and shouts from the villagers around them made Jack break away, blushing like a rogue.

  She had never seen anyone look more noble in all her life.

  Epilogue

  Jack gripped Madeline’s hand and helped her up the stairs to the dais overlooking the jousting arena where Crispin and Aubrey and baby Wulfric were waiting for them.

  “I think it’s a bit crowded up here,” she muttered over her shoulder as he joined her.

  “What?” He glanced past her to see Matlock standing at the far end of the raised platform. Their eyes met. Jack glared at him and was met by mutual hatred.

  “Never mind him.” Madeline tilted her chin up. “He means nothing to us.”

  She turned to smooth his tunic across his shoulders, fingers brushing across the new ensign for Kedleridge that they had devised with Simon’s help. It was a red cross against a black field with silver bees in two of the quadrants created by the cross and silver trees in the other two. As far as Jack was concerned nothing could represent his manor better. Simon had been busy sewing the new emblem on all his and Madeline’s clothes as he recovered from his near-fatal wounds.

  “Where have you been? We’re about to begin.” Crispin came to greet him, turning away from Matlock to thump Jack’s back in a show of welcome for all the assembled nobles and commoners to see.

  “Oy, we got busy, mate,” Jack winked.

  Crispin arched an eyebrow. He shook his head. “I thought you might like to do the honors.” He glanced over his shoulder and gestured to Pennington who stood next to Matlock.

  A wicked grin split Jack’s face. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  Crispin nodded and walked to the edge of the dais, holding up his hands to silence the humming crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, my lords and you, the people of Derby. I thank you for the kindness and generosity you have shown throughout this season and in this last week of the festival and tournament. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed. Lord John of Kedleridge has an announcement for you.”

  He stepped aside for Jack to take his place. Jack squeezed Madeline’s hand before striding to the place of honor at the front of the platform. He sent Aubrey a wink which she returned with a roll of her eyes, bouncing her baby in her arms. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with the little tyke even though he’d been born so early. He was going to take after his father, toughness and all. Jack’s glance drifted past the boy to Joanna, still pale and expressionless, dressed in black six weeks after her brother’s death. Jack’s heart went out to her. Toby had given his life to save them.

  He turned to face the crowd spread out in front of him. The daises and stands set up around the jousting arena were packed with Derbyshire’s nobles in their finest clothes. They looked to him with expectation, knowing what he was there to announce. They looked to him with respect.

  The story of the attack at Kedleridge and the defense that had been mounted had spread throughout the shire, and with it the announcement that the outlaws in the Derbywood had been routed. Jack had gone from being an upstart peasant to a brave knight intent on defending not only his manor but the noble way of life. It was complete bollocks as far as Jack was concerned, but he wasn’t about to set any of the nobs straight.

  He addressed the common people, spread around the edges of the arena instead. “My good people!” he began, his accent as clear and perfect as any nob. “My friends! I stand before you today to share with you the news that Derbyshire has paid its share of the king’s ransom!”

  A cheer rose up from noble and peasant alike. Jack glanced over his shoulder to Madeline. She closed her hand over the rosary around her neck and winked at him. He caught her glancing across to her father with a defiant grin. No one had been able to prove that Matlock had been involved in the attack on Kedleridge. Pennington had served as his alibi, supporting Matlock’s claim that he knew nothing about the activities of a bunch of forest outlaws. The mercenaries that had survived the battle had disappeared.

  “Sir Arthur Pennington has come from London,” Jack went on, sending Pennington a sharp stare, “to collect the last of Derbyshire’s contribution to the ransom.” He turned to the man and barked, “Oy, Pennington, you wanna say somethin’, mate?” with every bit of cocky peasant he could put on.

  Pennington gave him a nervous smile, stealing a glance to Matlock before edging around Jack to the front of the dais. “Um, thank you Derbyshire!” He raised a shaky hand and waved before tripping over himself to get as far away from Jack as possible.

  Jack hoped the smug sense of satisfaction he felt at the man’s cowardice didn’t make him as hoity-toity as the rest of the nobs watching the scene. “As a result of the incredible generosity of the people of Derbyshire, Prince John himself has sent his thanks. He will provide men and materials so that a permanent marketplace can be set up in Derby to generate trade in the area and improve the lot of lord and peasant alike.”

  Another cheer went up from the crowd. Jack sighed in satisfaction
as he looked out over the celebrating masses. A permanent market would be just the thing to ensure that both high and low in Derbyshire would have the power to live out their lives in comfort. It would also keep him and Crispin well on their toes for years to come. He glanced to his friend, stepping aside so that Crispin could take the stage again.

  As Crispin came to take his place Jack caught sight of a lone, ragged figure standing out amidst the common people below. He’d grown a beard and was dressed in a simple brown tunic, but it was definitely Ethan. Jack blinked. No one had seen Ethan since the day Toby was laid to rest in Windale church’s graveyard. Jack glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed. He looked around on the wild chance that Roderick was there as well. Roderick had gone missing after the battle of Kedleridge. Jack doubted the murderous little twit would throw his lot in with Ethan again. He searched for Ethan once more, but the man was gone. The crush of people was too dense to catch sight of him.

  “Thank you all for your continued support and generosity,” Crispin said his final words as Jack gave up searching. It was probably better for him to get lost anyhow. “A public feast will be held in the field beside this arena after the final joust.” Crispin nodded and turned to walk back to Aubrey and his son.

  “He never was much on making speeches.” Jack took Madeline’s arm and lead her to a pair of chairs at the end of the dais.

  “I wouldn’t be either.” She squeezed his arm.

  “I dunno.” He shrugged, sniffing in imitation of some of the more obnoxious nobs he’d known. “It might be fun.”

  “Content with being a noble after all, are we?” she laughed, sitting beside him and holding his hand.

  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I could get used to it.”