Deborah Simmons - Reynold de Burgh - The Dark Knight

Reynold held up his hand for silence. ‘But who among the five of you has seen it, personally, with your own eyes?’

The question set off another outburst from Urban, culminating in, ‘Are you calling us liars?’

It was Mistress Sexton who quietly and gracefully took control of the conversation before things became too heated. ‘I admit I was sceptical at first,’ she said, ‘but there is no denying its roar and the damage it leaves in its wake. What else could be responsible?’

Reynold could not comment on the sound since he had heard very little of it, but he knew that the poor animals used in bear-baiting roared loudly. Perhaps one had escaped its owners. More likely a wolf or wild boar was responsible for any attacks, while the fires were nothing more than a coincidence, attributed to an awakened creature by ignorant people weaned on village traditions.

When Urban would have protested again, Mistress Sexton stopped him with a glance. ‘It matters not,’ she said, leaning forwards, to eye Reynold sombrely. ‘What matters is that you, Lord de Burgh, are bound to help us.’

The hall was hushed as everyone awaited his reply, but Reynold knew he could not deny such an entreaty. Knightly honour, as well as his de Burgh blood, demanded that he aid those in need. And Grim’s End was plagued by something, even if it was only an especially vicious wolf that carried off livestock.

Although there were many things here that did not make sense, including why the liege lord had not sent men to dispatch such an animal long ago, Reynold’s duty was clear. And he need only kill the beast to be on his way again. It was hardly a challenge, though a raging boar might be a bit more difficult to handle.

As for the other possibility, Reynold preferred not to consider it. For now, at least, he still drew the line at dragons.

‘Mark my words, there will be trouble between those two,’ Ursula said, as the two women prepared for bed. ‘‘Tis like bringing another rooster into the henhouse.’

‘Ursula!’ Sabina felt her face flame. A rooster was brought in to breed with the hens, hardly a similar circumstance since she was a maiden and had no intention of breeding with Lord de Burgh. The very thought made her catch her breath, and she deliberately turned her mind from it. ‘The situations are not at all alike.’

Ursula eyed her cannily, and Sabina was forced to acknowledge, if only to herself, that Urban was being difficult. Her father’s man, he was fiercely loyal to the Sextons; she knew he had her best interests at heart. After her father’s death, he had urged her to leave Grim’s End, promising to take her anywhere that would offer her refuge. But she had refused to abandon her home and her family’s heritage. The Sextons, descendents of the church’s original warden, were said to be related to the founder of the village, as well. How could she abandon it?

‘‘Tis your own fault, Mistress,’ Ursula said, in her usual plain speech.

Sabina frowned. Perhaps the older woman was right. Sabina probably had leaned too heavily upon the servant after her father’s death, subtly allowing him more input into her decisions. But what else was she to do? Eventually, there were none left in Grim’s End except three women and a boy. As the only adult male, Urban had naturally assumed a more prominent position.

‘Once you give a man mastery over you, you can never get your own back,’ Ursula warned, as if privy to her thoughts.

‘I would hardly call Urban my master,’ Sabina said.

‘No, but what does he call himself? That’s the question.’

‘I cannot conceive of him calling himself my master,’ Sabina said. Nor could she imagine any man except her father in that role, although Lord de Burgh would appear to be master of just about anything he wanted. Again, her breath caught, and she veered away from such thoughts.

‘Urban has simply become accustomed to being the only man in the village, sole counsellor, protector and provider of sorts. It has nothing to do with me.’

‘As you say, mistress.’ Ursula bowed her head in apparent agreement, but that phrase always proclaimed the opposite. ‘Still, you can see why he might not take kindly to this stranger’s usurpation of his place.’

‘Lord de Burgh is not replacing him. Lord de Burgh is doing us a service, and once that service is done, all will return to normal again,’ Sabina said, hoping it was true. Perhaps Urban could travel to the nearby villages, urging the former inhabitants to return to their homes and bringing new families, as well, so Grim’s End could grow and thrive once more.

‘As you say, mistress.’

Sabina gave her companion a sharp look. ‘And just what would you advise?’ Although Urban had been right to be suspicious of strangers, Sabina was desperate for aid, and this knight seemed the answer to her prayers.

‘I would advise us to leave, mistress,’ Ursula said, as always.

‘And where should I go, an unmarried woman with little except the land you would have me abandon?’

‘There is one who would still have you, if you but knew how to contact him,’ Ursula said.

Sabina’s head jerked up at this new suggestion, and her fingers tightened upon the brush she was running through her hair. ‘Julian Fabre is dead.’

‘You don’t know that for certain,’ Ursula said softly. ‘His own father did not know.’

‘He is dead,’ Sabina repeated. She set her brush aside and rose to her feet, signalling an end to that conversation.

Ursula sighed, but did not comment.

‘Our hope now is Lord de Burgh, and I would ask that you treat him with respect,’ Sabina said as she slipped into bed. She could understand why Ursula and Urban were leery of the man, for Lord de Burgh was tall, strong, assured and, well, rather grim. He would make a fitting foe for the beast, but a dangerous adversary for any person at odds with him. Sabina shivered at the realisation.

Seeming to guess her thoughts, Ursula slanted her a wary glance. ‘Let us hope that you have not unleashed upon us something more perilous than the dragon.’

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