Honor & Roses (9 page)

“Besides,” Rafe said, “I need some excitement. I’m healed now, and it’s far too peaceful here!”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Alric warned.

Those sessions started small, but as the days went by, nearly all the able bodied men—along with a few young women determined to defend their manor—showed up on the field at least once or twice. Both villeins and free men joined. Theobald granted leave for anyone who could spare the time from their usual occupations.

Alric could see the eagerness in the eyes of his students. Cleobury was home to them, even more than it was for Alric. His own lands of Hawksmere were not far away, but some of the people at Cleobury hadn’t traveled so far in their whole lives. Alric also had the experience of seeing the great city of London, and of following the king for battle after battle. He’d seen something of the world.

To these people, Cleobury
was
the world. If it fell, they’d be homeless, so they threw themselves into learning how to defend it.

After one training session, Alric noticed a young lad trailing after him. He glanced back, recognizing the face. “Edmund, isn’t it? What do you need from me?”

“Um, Sir Alric, I was just wondering. That is, I wondered…”

“Speak, boy,” Alric urged. “Tell me so I can get on about my work.”

“That’s just it, sir. I want to be a squire. You’re a knight, but you don’t seem to have a squire for yourself. So I thought…”

“Have you got any training?”

“No,” Edmund admitted. “But I can learn! I didn’t have any training for defending the manor before, and now I know how to disarm a man coming over the wall.”

“Do you?” Alric pulled out his dagger. “Show me.”

Edmund’s eyes widened. “But we practiced the move with only blunt sticks!”

“Tell that to the Welsh and see if they care. Come. Prove how well you learn.”

The younger boy took a deep breath, and then darted toward Alric with surprising speed. 

He didn’t have much trouble deflecting Edmund, but he allowed the boy to disarm him, noting that his maneuvers were almost exactly what had been taught to everyone. The boy had a good memory.

The dagger fell to the ground, and Edmund halted, looking up at Alric with eagerness and a bit of fear.

“Well, pick it up,” Alric said. “Minding a knight’s weapons is one of the primary duties of a squire.”

Edmund swooped to retrieve the dagger, handing it back to Alric. “Here, sir!”

“If I take you on as squire, will anyone object? You’ve no other tasks?”

The boy shook his head vigorously. “No one will mind! My grandmother says I’m just underfoot.”

“What do your parents say?”

“They’re gone, sir.”

Alric suddenly saw the boy’s eagerness to learn a trade in a new light. “Ah,” he said. “When?”

“Last winter. February. They were traveling and there was a storm,” Edmund said. “Someone found them in a ditch after the ice and snow melted. They tried to take shelter, but…”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” Alric put one hand on the boy’s shoulder. “If you promise me you have no other obligations, I’ll teach you to squire—though I can’t guarantee you’ll be
my
squire. I may have to leave before you’re fully trained.”

“Yes, sir. Just give me a chance.”

“So I will. You can begin by joining me on my way to the stables. I want to check on Rolande.”

“I saw him this morning! He was pawing at the ground. He wants exercise.”

“I expect so.” Alric chuckled. “I will show you what needs to be done.”

Edmund was a quick student, and Alric believed he’d eventually make a good squire. Late in the afternoon, he left the boy in the stables so he could attend to the last item he wanted to look over: the gatehouse and the gate itself.

Everything else was for naught if the gate wasn’t solid. He examined the complex mechanisms, and tested the gate several times, until he was satisfied he could either open or close it within moments. Then he made his way to the back of the manor, checking over the perimeter on the way.

He examined the lock on the much smaller wicket gate, which was a door a single person could pass through even if the main gate was closed. Then he heard a laugh behind him.

“So serious, sir knight. Are you expecting an attack?”

Alric turned back to see Cecily standing there. He had avoided talking with her for a few days, and he found that he still wasn’t over the kiss of the first night.

“No, my lady,” he replied. “Merely testing everything to make sure all is in good condition. This is your manor after all, and your lands.” Though Theobald certainly seemed attached to being lord here.

“What is your judgment?” she asked, no longer teasing.

“Cleobury is better defended than nearly any place in England that I’ve seen, save for the new Norman castles.”

“Well, Theobald is a careful man. He has ever been so, considering how he came to hold the title.”

“Cecily, what happened at Aldgate—it won’t happen again,” Alric said, remembering the fateful night when Cecily’s old manor was attacked and caught fire.

“I try not to think about it,” she muttered. “It’s like a dream now anyway. Or a nightmare. The details have all blurred.”

Seeing her troubled face, Alric forgot his previous intention to keep his distance. He took her in his arms. Cecily leaned against him, gulping a few breaths.

“I didn’t mean to summon bad memories,” he said in apology.

“Oh, Alric.” Cecily clung tighter to him, and he enjoyed every moment. Guilt rose up. He shouldn’t benefit from her distress.

He let go and took a step back, trying to smile. “Better?”

“Now that you’re here, yes,” Cecily said.

“You need not fear a repeat of the past,” Alric said. “Cleobury will not fall to any sort of attack, short of an actual siege.”

“That is reassuring.”

“My duty is to protect you, Cecily. That’s why I’m doing as Theobald asked.”

Cecily’s face clouded briefly at his words, but then she gave him a little smile. “Ever the noble knight, Sir Alric. Just as always.”

Then she excused herself and left for the manor house, leaving Alric wishing he had a reason to make her stay.

But before he could call out to her, a servant came up to him. “Lord Theobald wishes to see you. Immediately.”

Alric obeyed the summons. Instead of the usual questions about King Stephen’s progress, this time Theobald was interested in matters much closer to home.

“Do you remember the hamlet of Meaholt?” he asked Alric.

“I was there only once or twice, my lord.” He could recall nothing specific, other than its precarious position among the rougher hills to the west. It was an assart, a place carved out of the wilderness after the better land had been claimed and built on. “I think there were three or four families living there.”

“Four,” Theobald confirmed. “But now there are none. A few years ago, a plague struck the hamlet, taking the lives of several people. Then followed a harsh winter, which harmed the flocks. The survivors abandoned their homes and took all their chattel and goods to the village of Bournham. Meaholt is no more.”

“Yet you ask me about it?”

Theobald said, “I’ve received word that bandits have taken up residence in the ruins. They could easily strike at Bournham from there, or any of half a dozen other settlements, including here. I will not tolerate being made party to such crime.”

“Have you spoken to the lady Cecily about your concerns?”

“Whatever for?”

“Meaholt is on her lands,” Alric pointed out. “Yes, you hold them for her for now, but shouldn’t the decision be hers?”

“I speak for Cecily,” Theobald said shortly. “She is not to be bothered with such matters—they aren’t any concern to a lady. Take as many men as you deem necessary and go root these bandits out. Burn the buildings to the ground if you must. But I want whoever is there now to be gone, and Meaholt to be nothing more than a scar on the land. The forest will retake it soon enough. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, my lord.” Alric excused himself. He understood both the order and the implicit warning to keep Cecily out of it. He didn’t like it, but his place wasn’t to argue, it was to obey. Somewhat troubled, he nevertheless set about gathering a force of men to join him on the excursion.

It proved more difficult than he expected. The men who came back from service along with Alric and Rafe were willing to go. But few of the men living at Cleobury would join them. As Alric moved through the ranks, he got fearful looks, excuses, and flat out refusals to accompany the force.

At last, Alric cornered William Barley, one of the tenant farmers who served the manor. “What’s the matter with Meaholt?” he asked. “Why is everyone afraid of a few masterless men living there?”

William explained, “It’s not mere bandits who reside there. It’s cursed ghosts, those who died of the plague. They can kill with a glance! The wise don’t go near Meaholt now.”

Alric shook his head in disgust. The idea of Meaholt becoming the domain of evil was ridiculous. Fortunately, he had ten stout soldiers who would join him, and they would not believe such nonsense. If necessary, Alric would order them to not believe it, and because they were all under his command, they would have no option but to obey.

He even asked Edmund, while the boy was helping exercise Rolande. The boy had also heard of Meaholt’s reputation, but he sounded excited rather than scared.

“Aye, there are ghosts there now,” he told Alric. “Some of the older boys heard rumors in spring, and dared each other to go under cover of darkness. Simon did so, just after nightfall. He said he saw floating lights, ghosts in the churchyard wearing tattered shrouds, and a mournful howl that chilled him to the bone.”

“So he did what?”

“He’s no fool. He got up from his hiding place and made to leave. Then he heard a wordless cry. One of the ghosts had seen him and began to give chase. Simon ran for his life. He crossed the eastern brook before he slowed. Ghosts and fairies are turned aside by running water,” Edmund added knowledgeably.

“Interesting,” Alric said.

“If you intend to go tomorrow, sir, you ought to bring your sword, for they fear iron. And take a priest.”

Alric chuckled. He’d definitely bring the sword. A priest he didn’t see a use for.

That evening, just as the last light was fading in the sky, Alric nodded in satisfaction when all the men appeared in the courtyard as he requested. William Fletcher and Oswin were his archers. Another experienced man-at-arms, Mark, was there with a sword at his side, and there were seven more beside him.

“Where’s Rafe?” Alric asked, looking around. “I would have thought he’d be eager to fight again.”

“He may be a bit too comfortable to leave his seat in the hall, sir,” Oswin said. “That is, if the woman who was on his lap remains there.”

“Aye, Beatrice is a difficult woman to leave,” another added jovially. “The devil knows I wouldn’t, if the choice were mine.”

“Well, perhaps he’ll wake early enough to ride out with us on the morrow,” Alric said, though with no expectation of that actually coming to pass. He resigned himself to being the only knight in the party. Fortunately, this was a only raid upon a poorly defended clutch of old houses. Whatever traps these bandits laid, Alric would find a way through them.

“Is your other companion not joining us?” one of the men asked, referring to Octavian.

“Though he offered, I refused,” Alric said. “He carries out the king’s work, and it’s not his job to police the shire. We will have more than enough strength. Now listen,” he went on. “As I recall, Meaholt lies several miles to the west, somewhat north of the main road. So I want to leave at dawn. Everyone should have a horse to ride to Meaholt. Once near, halt when I give the signal and we’ll advance as silently as possible.”

“We’ve got axes and torches,” said one of the men. “Once we run off the bandits, we’ll make short work of Meaholt. In a season or two, no one will ever know it was there.”

Alric nodded. “Those are Theobald’s wishes precisely. Remember, do not kill unless you must. If these men are bandits, I would have them taken alive to answer for their crimes and repay their victims.”

Everyone nodded. Alric was used to exerting authority in such matters, and he trusted all these soldiers implicitly.

“Good,” he said. “Meet here on the morrow to ride out. By dusk, we’ll be home and Meaholt will be only a memory.”

Later that evening, Cecily was
walking toward the manor house from the garden, where she hurried through the last of her tasks by lamplight. In the courtyard, she was hailed by Octavian.

As their paths crossed, he bowed very properly to her. Octavian seemed to observe all the niceties of the court, no matter where he was.

She asked, “Are you comfortable at Cleobury?”

“Oh, yes. I wasn’t sure what to expect this far from London, but it’s as civilized here as in the city—more so, in some ways.” He smiled, looking around the manor. “Though I’d happily stay here, I still have several letters to distribute. I must go on the morrow to deliver the next few.”

Cecily watched him as he spoke. Sir Octavian was not much older than she was, and that made him young for a knight. Most men served as squires for several more years before gaining a knightly status; some never did so. Yet Octavian already found enough favor with the king that he was trusted with important documents.