Michael Jecks - The Tolls of Death

‘I have defrauded no one!’

‘Only a thief would steal from travellers,’ Richer said, studying his fingers nonchalantly. ‘Or from his own master.’

‘You’re a liar!’ Serlo bellowed. ‘I’ll have your head, you black-hearted son of a lunatic and a-’

‘You are in a churchyard!’ Letitia hissed, staring frantically towards her husband. Something in her eyes must have caught his attention, for he immediately started moving towards them.

‘It is well enough!’ Richer said. ‘Let all hear who wish to! I accuse this miller of taking gifts from people instead of the lord’s tolls.’

‘Still your mouth, you heap of dung!’ Alexander hissed as he drew near. ‘This language will have you fined in our lord’s court, I swear. You leave our vill and return filled with new ideas and expect us to listen? I say I piss on your words, and I piss on you too! If you keep up this kind of malicious villeiny-saying, you’ll find yourself in more trouble than you could imagine.’

‘You think I am causing trouble?’ Richer said mildly. ‘I do nothing compared with your brother! He acts as thief, this miller, and you do not seek to stop him.’

‘I am Constable here,’ Alexander said. His eyes were glittering coldly, and he glanced about him as though to measure the support he might gain from others. ‘I’ll see to this.’

But he was too late.

‘I’m no thief, you liar!’ Serlo screamed, and to Letitia’s disgust, she saw the spittle fly from his lips. He lurched forward, his fingers curling as though already feeling the gristle of Richer’s neck in them.

Richer stepped aside, but his hand was at his dagger’s hilt. ‘Call off your pet, Constable, unless you want him to feel the sting of my blade. Call him off, I say!’

As Serlo tried to leap on him, old Iwan grabbed one arm and held it in a vice-like grip; the other arm was gripped by Iwan’s son Angot. They held Serlo firmly while he roared at Richer: ‘You threaten me ? You accuse me ? Iwan, let me go , you old bastard! Richer, I’ll have your ballocks in my purse for this!’

‘Oh you will, will you?’ Richer said coolly. ‘Friend Serlo, if you try to harm me, I swear that within the hour, I’ll see you in Hell. You go back to threatening children and your wife, little man — leave real men alone. We deserve more capable fighters than cowards like you!’

He stepped forward, letting his hand fall away from his knife, and as he passed Alexander, he held the man’s gaze, speaking low.

‘Keep that piece of shit away from Athelina in future, understand? Otherwise all this will come straight to the attention of the lord of the manor. I swear it. Leave her alone, and leave her safe, or I’ll ruin you.’

Letitia heard his words, but did not know what he meant by them. Athelina had little to do with her or Alex, apart from living in one of the houses which Alex and Serlo owned. In any event, Alex wouldn’t have harmed her. Since losing his own mother, he had taken great care to protect other mothers so far as was possible.

Then she saw Richer’s expression as he stared at her husband. That was when she understood. Richer didn’t care about Serlo . His words may have been aimed at Serlo, but their import was intended for Alex. This man Richer had returned here after many years abroad; now it appeared that he and Alex hated each other. Why, she had no idea, but she was sure that Richer was threatening her man. It should have worried her: Richer was one of the men-at-arms at the castle, after all, but she couldn’t be anxious about Alex. He was too sensible and self-assured. No matter how dangerous Richer might be, she was convinced that Alex and she could meet the threat head-on. He was the Constable of the vill, when all was said and done, and Letitia was more than capable of helping him.

But, she acknowledged with a sigh, her brother-in-law was a different matter. Serlo was forever causing problems for them, starting brawls in the tavern, insulting men and women as though he was safe from prosecution, and now he had even threatened one of the castle’s men in full view of the vill.

It was clear that he detested Richer with a loathing that went much more than skin deep. And, as usual, it would be the protection of Alex’s brother which would cause the friction between herself and her husband, she saw with a swift intuition. So be it.

‘Yes, Serlo, you leave me alone before you get hurt,’ Richer said more loudly again, with a chuckle in his voice. ‘And in the meantime, I look forward to the next court in our lord’s hall, if you persist in taking gifts. You’re reducing the amount he can expect from his tolls, by reducing the charge, and he won’t like that.’

He tapped his dagger’s hilt meaningfully and then stepped back a few paces, his eyes still on Alexander and Serlo, before he spun on his heel and left.

Alexander put his hand through his wife’s crooked arm. ‘Come, my dear, we should get back to our home,’ he said. ‘Serlo, you should join us. Would you care for some wine and meats?’

‘No. No, I’m going to get on home,’ Serlo said, shrugging off the hands of those who had held him fast. ‘Next time you try to hold me, I’ll punch some sense into your heads, you …’

Iwan smiled at him, his wrinkled old face unperturbed. ‘Oh yes? You’ll punch sense into me, will ’ee, Serlo Almeric’s son? You try it, fellow. And when you’ve come round, you can remember to be polite to your elders. Just think on: you’re in our tithing. If you break the King’s Peace, it’s goin’ to be me and Angot here who knock some sort of sense into your thick head, because we won’t pay fines for your stupidity.’

Alexander broke in quickly. ‘Don’t threaten him in my presence, Iwan. I won’t have it. If a man misbehaves in this vill, I’ll tell him, and I’ll bring it to the attention of Gervase at the castle, too.’

‘Oh, I weren’t threatenin’ him,’ Iwan remarked happily. ‘I were just tellin’ ’im ’ow it were to be.’

Serlo spat at the ground at Iwan’s feet, then barged the old man from his path. Alexander saw Iwan’s fist clench, and snarled, ‘Iwan, leave it!’

‘Weren’t doin’ nothin’,’ came the reply, Iwan’s blue eyes opened wide in innocence, and as Serlo disappeared from view, Alexander turned from the church and made his way homewards, his arm still linked with that of his wife.

As the two made their stately progress home from the church, Gervase, the steward at the castle, finished his discussion with the cook about the meals for that day and strolled downstairs, just in time to see Lady Anne and her maids leaving the chapel.

She was still small, neat and perfect, he thought. This was the woman who had come between him and his only real friend, Nicholas the castellan, first by taking Nick from him, then by stopping him from indulging in those lengthy debates which both had enjoyed so much. They had invariably been drunken affairs, meandering on late into the night; during which they had spoken of manor business and then, as the wine flowed more freely, the politics of the nation. Nick was of a mind with their lord, that the Despensers must be curbed before they took over the whole kingdom, while Gervase held the pragmatic view that it was better to have the Despensers as tyrants ruling all, including the King, because that meant the kingdom was quiet and secure. Any move to restrain them could only lead to war again, and that was to be avoided at all costs. Their disagreements never led to anger on either side. Both could lay down their opinions without offending the other.

But Lady Anne had not enjoyed having her husband arrive drunk in her bed each night, and she had sweetly suggested that they should use different rooms, if he wished to carouse the night away with his old companion. So, as Nick said, ‘just for a little while’ they’d best drop the custom.