Alinor (11 page)

This time Joanna got as far as the floor before she found another question. "Is Geoffrey sick, Mama?"

Alinor did not sigh with relief, but she sent up a prayer of thanksgiving. So far she and Ian both seemed to have traveled the right path toward peace of mind for the child. "No," she began, and then a notion came to her that might accomplish several good purposes. She pulled Joanna close so that she could speak softly enough that the maids would not hear.

"You asked me why it was needful to be chaste. Geoffrey is a good reason. His mama was not chaste and was not married to his papa—I do not know why, so do not ask me that. Of course, that is not Geoffrey's fault at all, but many people who are cruel and stupid, taunt him with that and call him 'bastard,' as if he was to blame for his birth. Geoffrey was not sick. He was afraid that once he was part of our household and no longer a guest, you and Adam and I would be unkind to him. If you are not chaste, you may have a child and that child would suffer for what you had done. That is certainly wrong."

"Why do not his mama and papa protect him?" Joanna asked, dismissing the subject of chastity for one far more interesting to her.

"His mama is dead. His papa loves him very much, but he cannot protect Geoffrey against the whole world. He cannot keep Geoffrey with him always. You know that Adam will go away to be fostered in a few years. Ian and I will do our best to find people who will love him and be kind to him, but mistakes can be made. Someone was unkind to Geoffrey before he came into Ian's care. He is wounded in a way you cannot see. Thus, just as you would not touch Ian's back, you must not use certain words to Geoffrey. You must not call him whoreson or bastard, even in anger." Alinor smiled. "Call him louse, or feeble-minded worm, or gaping oaf if you will, but not those others."

"Gentlewomen do not use such language," Joanna said sententiously.

"Well, I never said you were a gentlewoman—only that I was trying to make you into one," her mother replied tartly. "And if the argument I overheard you having with Adam, right here in this room, last week is any proof, I am not succeeding," Alinor teased. She laughed as she saw Joanna beginning to marshal arguments as to why brothers, especially younger brothers, were exceptions to the rule that a gentlewoman use gentle language. "Never mind that now," her mother cut her off. "We have idled away time enough."

Even being lectured was better than spinning. "But mother—" Joanna began.

"We must be all new dressed for the wedding," Alinor interrupted temptingly, "and the clothes must be very grand to do us honor before our guests. What would best become you, do you think? Shall we look through the cloth?"

Some time before Alinor had sought out Geoffrey, Ian watched Owain slip his shield strap over Adam. The child braced himself sturdily under the weight. He had a good seat in the saddle, too, even though he had to turn his body to allow the shield to clear the horse's side. Then Owain mounted to Adam's left and Beorn brought his horse to Ian's right.

"In the open," Ian said to Adam, "this is how we ride. You must not ride ahead or behind, so that I can take my shield when I desire it. Listen hard, Adam. You are being asked to do a duty beyond your years and experience because Geoffrey is not well today and my back is sore. You must obey orders quickly and exactly. If you do not, you will be a danger to us all, and I will not dare take you out again for a long time. Further, you must not speak to me unless you believe you see a danger I do not perceive. You may speak to Owain, but if he tells you to hold your tongue, do so at once."

"Yes, lord," Adam replied, in so fine an imitation of Owain and Geoffrey that Ian was forced to bite his lips to keep from laughing.

The reply was an excellent prognostication, however. In watching his squires and thinking back on his own experiences with Simon, Ian had come to understand how men were made. Adam was pretending to be Geoffrey—or any boy old enough to hold the position of squire. And when Adam was a squire, the thoughts continued as Ian touched his horse into movement and rode across the drawbridge, he would pretend to be the knight—as Owain was now pretending. Owain was speaking very kindly to Adam and answering his questions as he imagined he would answer such questions when he was Lord Owain and squires rode in his tail. Ian smiled and sighed at the same time. Pretending and pretending, we pretend ourselves into men, he thought. Somewhere inside him there was still a small, frightened boy, but the covering of pretend-man was so thick by now that the frightened child had no outlet, except once in a long while to cry out to God.

"Eorling, beoth heil hym to taken?"
Once over the drawbridge, Beorn had moved up on Ian's right. His eyes flicked to Adam. It was clear he trusted less in the good behavior of his young master than Ian did, or perhaps it was Ian's ability to control his charge that was in doubt in Beorn's mind.

"Alle heil,"
Ian reassured him and then switched to French, because he wanted Adam to understand what was said. "We will not go far today. I only mean to ask some questions. I want to discover, if I can, whether it is one band or more, how many men, and from what direction or directions they come."

In accordance with this purpose, the troop set off eastward along the coastline. At each fishing village Ian asked his questions. It was soon clear that the raiders did not come from the sea but were based inland. They turned north along the border of the demesne lands. Here and there a robbery was reported, but these were obviously single attacks by one or two individuals. Beorn mentioned that one thief, at least, had already been captured and hanged.

At the northern border, they turned west. Almost at once they found trouble. A farm had been stripped of its cattle, the bailiff badly beaten, his wife raped, two female serfs carried off. One young male serf, limping and with a bloody weal across his scalp, had seen the reavers. More men than his fingers and toes, he reported, and they had come from the west. Ian promised help and some recompense for their losses. He would return the next day, or the day after, he said, to arrange some kind of warning system and some suggestions for preliminary defense measures.

They continued west, passing some untouched farms. Two had not been troubled, but one of those bred pigs. Few robbers, no matter how daring, would try to drive a herd of pigs without the aid of the herdsman. And should they harm the herdsman, those vicious and highly intelligent animals would soon make pig food of both men and horses. A few pigs might die, but no man who stayed to fight them would live. Ian spoke to the bailiff and requested information from the herds- man. Let him pen the pigs for a day or two, Ian said, he would be by tomorrow or the next day for his answers. Another untouched farm, however, reported that tribute had been paid. The description of the taker made Ian raise his brows. Two men only, dressed like gentlemen, and speaking the gentle tongue.

"I think," Ian said to Beorn, "that these are clever villains not in any way connected to the reavers but using the fear of them to their own purpose. The reavers take money if they find it, but they are more interested in food and women."

If they came again, Ian instructed the bailiff to take them prisoner. The Lady of Roselynde would go bail if there were any losses incurred because of that, he promised. The bailiff looked doubtful. Ian said sharply that he was betrothed to the lady. Beorn confirmed his claim. The bailiff grew warm, invited them in to drink a measure and break a crust. Ian refused with thanks. They still had far to go, and the lady expected them to dinner. That stilled all argument and healed all hurt. Ian was amused by the bailiff's obvious conviction that a male master was an immediate necessity in Roselynde and equally that the male master would defer in all things, save battle, to the Lady of Roselynde.

As they neared the westernmost border of the demesne, more and more troubles were reported. One farm where stiff resistance under a determined bailiff had been made had retained its cattle, but most of the outbuildings had been burned. Northwest was the direction the reavers had come, this bailiff reported. In the next place, right on the edge of the demesne lands —a looted village—the headman also said the robbers had come from the northwest. Ian sucked his teeth with annoyance.

"You see what this means?" he said to Beorn as soon as they were riding south toward Roselynde.

"I beg pardon. No, lord, I do not."

"It means they come from outside our land, curse them. They may be lairing on the royal demesne property in or around the Forest of Bere or mayhap on church property as far away as Bishop's Waltham. I will wager also that they do not raid the land they lair upon. We have trouble, Beorn. I had hoped they were hiding on the estate itself or coming off Rowland land."

"Where is the difference, lord?"

"The difference is that I would rather offend Rowland than the king. If I must trespass to root out this band of brigands— Well, it is not my decision to make alone. I must talk to Lady Alinor."

The expression of relief on Beorn's face almost made Ian laugh aloud. However, it was significant of more than the fact that Beorn respected and feared his mistress. Obviously, he knew that Simon consulted Alinor on such matters, or he would have been surprised by what Ian said. That was very interesting. Ian knew, of course, that Alinor had managed the fiscal and, at need, the judicial business of her estates. He had not realized how closely she was involved in the defense of her lands.

"There is little more we can do now," Ian continued. "Let us return. Tell your men to eat well and get what sleep they can. We will ride out again tonight. Think also of about ten men who would make reliable battle captains. I will see them in the great hall after dinner."

"Yes, lord."

Ian glanced sidelong at Adam. They had been out longer than Ian had expected. Beorn had made the understandable error of concentrating his patrols close in to Roselynde Keep. In a war condition, that was logical, because the raiding would be connected with spying out the castle and its defenses and the best area into which to settle an attacking force. That was the type of situation with which Beorn was familiar. During the reigns of old King Henry and even Richard, the countryside had been relatively free of landless, marauding bands. When attacks were launched, they were private wars of the nobility directed at gaining property or avenging an insult.

The troubles that were racking England now were of a different sort. Heavy taxation and poor crops had ruined many villeins, small farmers who owned a few acres of land, and even some of the lesser squirearchy. Some understanding or rich landlords, like Alinor, simply carried the burden, allowing the debt to mount and hoping that better times would permit the free smallholder to repay it in the future. Some landlords did not care, or were so pressed for money themselves that they could not carry nonpaying tenants. These put the villein off his land and found another tenant who could pay; it was a double profit, in that the new tenant had to buy the land as well as pay the rent. Unfortunately, this left the previous tenant with nowhere to go and no way to keep his family from starvation.

Some sold themselves into bondage, sinking to the level of serf to keep bread in their mouths and a roof over their heads. Some went into the growing towns, where the fortunate found employment in the new industries of trade and manufacture, and the unfortunate died of want or were flogged or hanged. Many, however, desperate and embittered, formed together into bands and preyed upon those more fortunate than themselves. Occasionally these bands would be led by a dispossessed knight or the rebellious younger son of a nobleman. These marauders, managed with discipline and intelligence, were the hardest to deal with, and Ian feared that that was what he had found here.

It seemed to Ian that they had been out too long for Adam. The boy still sat straight in the saddle, but he looked pale to his suddenly anxious stepfather. They had another two hours of riding, even if they did not skirt the borders of the estate but rode directly for the keep. Ian glanced at the sun, or, rather, at the bright area that betrayed the sun's presence in the cold, gray sky. He could not afford to stop and call a rest if he wanted the men to have time to eat and get a little sleep. And he could not simply take his shield from Adam. The child had behaved beautifully. To relieve him of his duty without any cause—to say he was tired would be the most shameful excuse of all—would be an insult.

"Adam," Ian said, "do you understand what I have done and what I have discovered?"

The boy turned his head. His eyes were heavy, and his lips looked a little blue. Consciously, he lifted the hand that held the rein from the saddle pommel, where he had allowed it to rest.

"I—I do not—I am not sure, lord."

"Very well. I am glad you are so honest. Give me my shield and come sit before me so that I can explain it to you."

"I can listen while I ride," Adam protested uncertainly.

"No doubt," Ian replied, "but you know I have lately been ill. It is tiring for me to need to raise my voice for so long. If you sit before me, I can talk softly."

"A damwein y gadei yr un y dwyn,"
Owain said.

For a moment Ian was surprised. It was an odd time to be quoting old fairy tales. Then he laughed. Owain had made a reference to proud men who "rarely allow anyone to be carried."

"Diamheu!"
Ian replied. The one word, "undoubted," carried his meaning without exposing his lack of mastery of the incredibly complex grammar of Welsh or his inability to sing the exquisite language as it deserved.

Beorn watched as Ian lengthened his shield strap and swung it over his shoulder, took the boy into his arms, tenderly tucking his cloak around the youngster. He thanked God that he need not worry about that beloved hellion any longer. Lord Ian loved him and could control him. Owain caught the reins of Adam's horse and fastened them to a loop on the rear of his saddle so that he could ride beside his master. He knew the lecture was really for him. Adam was too young. Ian began to describe why he had taken the route he had chosen, how he had put the information he had received together, and what his conclusions were. Adam's eyes closed. Owain listened intently, interspersing questions. Someday not too far in the future he would need to ask similar questions and draw conclusions from the answers. Beorn retired into his own thoughts. Why a thing happened or must be done was the business of the lord. Thank God there was again a lord to do that part. His business was to follow orders. The lord required ten worthy battle captains. Beorn began to consider his subordinates.