Michael Jecks - The Tolls of Death

This was only the first of the signs that Gervase had lost his friend. Nick started to take breakfast in his bedchamber with his wife rather than in the hall where the two men had been wont to discuss their plans for the day. Now commands came down from Nick, often an embarrassed Nick, which indicated to Gervase that it was his wife who had demanded changes to the steward’s list of chores.

At first Gervase had accepted all this in good heart, knowing that it was only right and fair that Nick should be allowed to enjoy his wife. No one should come between a man and his woman. Gervase knew that well enough.

‘Master steward! Good morning. It is a fine one, isn’t it?’

He fixed a smile to his face and nodded briefly. ‘My lady, yes. And you look magnificent.’

‘You flatter me,’ she said shyly. As so often before, he felt his heart lurch as her gaze darted away from him as though she was ashamed, or fearful, of seeing too much. It was said that the eyes were the windows to a man’s soul; well, she was ever scared of seeing love in another’s face.

It was no surprise, he reflected. She was temptation made flesh. Perfect in all ways, from her flawless skin to the slim, lithe body beneath her tunic, she was enough to make any man forget his oaths.

‘No man could flatter you, Lady Anne. Flattery supposes that the comments are not merited, and in your case they are.’

She returned her gaze to him then, a smile on her lips. ‘I thank you.’

He watched as she moved away, still captivated by the thought of that lovely body … before he was wrenched back by the memory of the pain he had suffered, the loss of his best friend, and the betrayal.

It hurt so much, he could weep.

Walking quickly, Richer left the churchyard and made his way along the path towards the castle. He had not gone above a hundred paces when at the bend in the road where the trees obscured the view, his companion Warin appeared suddenly at his side.

‘Christ’s tears, I wish you wouldn’t do that!’ Richer declared. ‘The way you appear, it’s enough to make a man have a fit!’

His friend glanced at him. ‘Why? You think I’m more likely to give a man a fit than you? It wasn’t me who tweaked the tail of that little monkey.’

‘It wasn’t only his tail I was tweaking,’ Richer said smugly. ‘It was his brother’s.’

‘Don’t forget,’ his friend said unsmilingly, ‘that this is not an affair which concerns only you.’

‘I am aware of that.’

‘Good. If you upset the Constable and his brother, it may have unfortunate consequences for the tithing and the manor, and I cannot allow that.’ Warin’s voice was sharper this time.

Richer had rarely heard his tone so cool. The man was a squire, yes, and of course he had a legitimate interest in the workings of the manor and in the loyalties of the peasants because of his position with the castle, but Richer felt as though he had been deserted by his oldest companion. Their relationship had been one of mutual trust, rather that of friends or brothers than squire with his man-at-arms. To hear Warin speak so was enough to make Richer feel as he did when he prepared to ride into a battle: an awareness of danger to come.

‘This business of the tolls should interest the castle,’ he said. ‘I don’t understand why the steward does nothing about it.’

Warin frowned. ‘Don’t change the subject. We’re talking about you . This matter goes much deeper than the foolishness of a tollkeeper. It is an ancient feud.’

‘I never liked him,’ Richer answered simply. ‘And now, seeing how he’s treated my woman, I dislike him all the more.’

‘ Your woman? You left her fifteen years ago, you tell me she has two brats from her dead husband, and still you call her yours?’

‘She may be mine again,’ Richer said seriously, but then he looked up at his squire and grinned. ‘Don’t worry about Serlo — he’s no real danger to us. Alex is the one with the brain. He’ll understand that all I want is to see Athelina safe, remaining in her house. They’ll work out for themselves that it’s better to do what I want, rather than have me making trouble for them. If they leave her alone, I’ll leave them alone.’

‘The two brothers together could be a risk. They are upsetting the folk about here with their depredations. They are like those other thieving devils, Despenser and his father,’ Warin growled. ‘If you keep up this affair of trying to settle an old score, Serlo might decide to harm you. Perhaps even waylay and kill you.’

‘Not while we are at the castle. Even they wouldn’t do anything while we live under Nicholas’s protection. He’s the representative of Sir Henry. No one would dare to gainsay him in the lord’s own manor.’

‘Perhaps.’ Warin’s eyes were a curious light hazel colour with green flecks. When those eyes were fired with rage, they glittered like gold shot through with emerald. Although he was large and strongly built, he was no dullard, like some of the blockheads who regularly fought in the lists, but an intelligent and educated man. Now he turned on Richer a look which seemed to shear through his words like a sword through butter.

Richer’s laugh was less certain under that scrutiny. ‘“Perhaps”- nothing! And while I’m here, I won’t have the pair of them robbing everyone including their master!’

‘Very well, but I don’t wish the area to be unsettled. This used to be a stable, secure place. I want it to remain so.’

‘Yes, Squire, and I shall see to it.’

‘Good,’ Warin said. ‘With Despenser running the land there are already too many problems in the realm without us seeking to create more here in the manor.’

‘The problems aren’t of my making,’ Richer protested. ‘I didn’t tell the miller to ask us for a gift.’

‘Yet you are happy enough to continue the argument, aren’t you? And you’d like to smack Serlo’s fat face, wouldn’t you, friend Richer?’

Those unsettling eyes were on him again, and Richer had to shrug in agreement.

He had always disliked Almeric’s family. Then, when he had suffered his own personal disaster and lost everyone belonging to him, it seemed cruel and unjust that they should have remained in Cardinham and prospered while he was absent. It served to make his dislike more intense.

Alexander and Serlo had been nasty pieces of work from as early as Richer could remember. Never the sort to leave the vill and make their own way in the world, they preferred to remain in the backwater where they had been sired and whelped, making themselves kings of this little territory. But like kings of many another small land, their rule was permanently at risk. Alexander liked to believe that he was master of the vill because he was the Constable; Serlo liked to believe that he was a prince among his peers because his brother ran things.

The brothers had managed to acquire much power and influence here, by judicious use of gossip, spreading malicious tales about others in order to enhance their own positions. When all else failed, they resorted to threats of violence, but from what Richer had seen, that was a rare occurrence. Most people in the vill didn’t bother to argue.

If they demanded a piece of land to graze their animals, the farmer would give way. It was easier than preventing them. And in that way, they encroached on other men’s lands and increased their flocks. Small parcels were borrowed, and then after some months or a year the neighbour might see that they had put up a fence to prevent their sheep escaping, and soon that fence became a wall and hedge, and then Alexander would claim that since he’d been using the land for so long, it was easier to include it on his lands, and how much would the farmer want for it? All too often the farmer would agree to let him make use of the land because, as Alexander said, it was better for the manor that his profits were kept high, since they formed such a large part of the manor’s total profit.