Death and Honor: Book 1 of 2 (4 page)

“
I
’m sorry
, dear, I don’t recognize it,” Alexandra said after studying the strange markings on the scroll. Jeremiah had returned to the estate earlier that morning, prisoners in tow. The bandits languished in cells at the rear of the barracks. “If you’d like I can check the library, maybe I can find something. In fact it would make an excellent lesson for the boys.”

“By all means,” Jeremiah said. “Anything you can discover would be good. Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

“No, everything’s been quiet, even Xander behaved himself. Oh, I almost forgot, Duncan’s coming out for a visit tomorrow. His note mentioned relaxing for a day before some important meeting.”

“Is he bringing his family?”

“He didn’t say, but I assume Jolie and Morgrin will come, they usually do.”

“I should get their rooms ready.”

“Jeremiah, relax, I’ve already got the maids working on it and the last thing they need is you fussing over them like a mother hen.” She crinkled her nose. “I think you should take a bath instead.”

Jeremiah felt like a new man after washing off a week’s worth of sweat. He rolled his shoulders, glad to be rid of forty pounds of steel hauberk. Since his wonderfully efficient wife had the preparations for Lord St. Jaques visit under control he was free to check in on Burt and question the prisoners.

Outside clouds filled the sky and the wind held a nip, a reminder that summer wasn’t there yet. The short walk to the cottage did wonders for Jeremiah’s aching legs. When he arrived he found the cottage door unlocked, but he knocked anyway.

“Come on in.” Burt said.

Jeremiah pushed the door open and found Burt tidying the room, his bandage gone, and the injured arm seeming to give him no trouble. “Feeling better?”

Burt looked up. “Oh, aye, sir. That healer of yours done a hell of a job. I reckon my arm’s better now than before I got stuck.”

“Bones will be pleased to hear it, but don’t praise him too much. He’s near impossible to deal with now.”

“How’d you make out with them bandits?”

Jeremiah smiled. “They won’t be troubling anymore caravans. We killed half of them and the rest are locked up in our prison. We’ll be taking them to Lord’s Way to face the king’s justice in a couple days.”

“Damn good thing. Seems a man can hardly walk down the road without getting shot at. So what’s to happen to me now, sir?”

“Nothing, you’re free to be on your way. If you prefer you can stay on until we run the bandits in and ride back with us.”

“I reckon I’ll do that. Don’t care much for traveling alone at the moment.”

Jeremiah left Burt to his cleaning and walked across the yard to the barracks. When he stepped inside the two score men inside snapped to attention. “At ease. Have the prisoners caused any trouble?”

“No, sir,” Marcus said. “I understand Lord St. Jaques is coming tomorrow. Will he be inspecting the men?”

“I doubt it. I think he’s looking to relax.”

Marcus’s shoulder’s dropped as the tension went out of him. Professional solders hated it when a nobleman got it in his head to tell them the best way to handle their business.

“Come on, I want a word with our guests.”

The bandits were crammed into three cells meant to hold half as many men. The sour smell of sweat almost brought a tear to Jeremiah’s eye. Marcus coughed. “We either need a bigger jail or to stop taking so many prisoners.”

“Attention!” Jeremiah said. “I require information. Whoever provides it will get a reduced sentence. What was so important about that caravan? Why was it attacked?”

When no one spoke Jeremiah said, “I don’t want to administer beatings, but if that’s the only way to get you to talk I will.”

One of the bandits eased his way over to the bars. “It ain’t that we don’t want to tell you, me lord, it’s just we don’t know nothing. The boss says where and when and we attack.”

Jeremiah frowned at the man.

“Let me get a couple of the boys,” Marcus said. “We’ll beat the truth out of them quick enough.”

Jeremiah laid a hand on his second in command’s shoulder. “No need for that. I’ve dealt with his kind often enough to tell when they’re lying, he’s not. You must have some idea why you attacked that caravan.”

“Truly sir, I ain’t. One afternoon we was sitting by the fire when this big black bird flies over head and lands on the boss’s shoulder. It’s got a scroll tube tied to its foot. The boss takes it and off the bird goes. The boss reads the letter and next thing we know were marching off to set an ambush.”

Jeremiah nodded, getting a handle on what was happening. “Let’s go, we’ll get nothing more here.”

When they’d left the jail behind Marcus asked, “What do you think, sir?”

“It’s clear someone hired those men to attack that specific caravan, no doubt to acquire that small chest we recovered. Anything more will require the scroll to be translated.”

X
ander stood
beside his brother while his father pace in front of the main house. Uncle Duncan would arrive any minute. The way Father worried you’d think it was the first time Uncle Duncan had come for a visit rather than like the hundredth. Every time the same thing, pace and worry until he got here, then brandy and old war stories. Xander chafed in his fancy slacks and tunic. He scratched the back of his knee with the toe of his boot. In the distance he spotted a short row of horsemen surrounding a carriage coming down the dirt road toward the mansion. At last. “Here they come, Father.”

Father stopped pacing and crouched down beside Xander. “Please be good.”

Xander raised an eyebrow but the clatter of hooves and squeak of the carriage drowned out his indignant comment. The carriage door popped open and the round form of Duncan St. Jaques clambered down from the carriage before the coachman got down from his seat to help.

Father fell to one knee, head bowed. “My lord.”

Duncan smiled. “For goodness sake, Jeremiah, get up. There’s no need for that foolishness when it’s just the families.”

“Uncle Duncan!” Xander and Gabriel shouted in unison and charged the older man.

Duncan scooped Xander up and spun him around once before setting him down. He ruffled Gabriel’s carefully combed hair. “Hello, boys. Gabriel, I swear you’ve grown six inches since my last visit.”

Behind Duncan his wife, Jolie, better known as the scarecrow when the servants thought no one was listening, climbed down out of the carriage. Rail thin and tall Jolie stood in stark contrast to her husband.

Xander darted forward and offered his best courtly bow. “You look very pretty today, Aunt Jolie.” This was a bare faced lie and Father wouldn’t approve if he heard, but it was polite so at least mother would be happy with him.

Jolie’s pinched face crinkled up into a smile. “That’s sweet, dear.” She dug into her little purse and fished out a saltwater toffee for Xander, just as he’d hoped she would. A complement always yielded a treat from Aunt Jolie. He assumed this was because she was so ugly the only way she could get compliments was to bribe people.

“Mother, you gave away my candy.” The petulant voice of Morgrin St. Jaques echoed out of the carriage. Xander had hoped they’d left the snot behind this time, but no such luck. Tall like his mother and fat like his father Morgrin towered six inches over Xander. Not that he intimidated Xander. Morgrin was soft, slow, and lazy, not a combination that inspired fear.

“Just one piece, dear. I have plenty more.”

“But they’re mine,” Morgrin squealed like a hog at the troth. Turning to Duncan, Morgrin said, “When are we going fishing?”

“After lunch.” Even Uncle Duncan sounded annoyed with Morgrin.

“I want to go now.”

“The boys can take him,” Father said.

Xander winced. The last thing he wanted was to spend the day with Morgrin bloody St. Jaques. He’d only been in the boy’s presence for five minutes and he already wanted to strangle him.

“Yes, Father,” Gabriel said, always so quick to agree.

Morgrin looked down at them and sniffed. “Very well, come.”

“Change your cloths first,” Mother said. A temporary reprieve, but one Xander grasped like a life line.

The boys trotted up to their room. At the top of the stairs Xander said, “Hey Gab, want half my toffee?”

Gabriel opened the door to their room and Xander darted in past him. He stripped off his itchy shirt and pegged it into the wash pile.

“Give it here, runt, I’ll split it for you.”

Xander tossed him the treat, not worried in the least about not getting his fair share. It would never even occur to Gabriel to take more than his share. Xander shook his head; it wasn’t natural to be that honest, especially where toffee was concerned. Xander had a pair of scuffed pants on and was taking his time looking for an old shirt when Gabriel tossed him half the toffee. He popped in his mouth and sighed, wonderful stuff, sweet, buttery, bliss, pity father never brought any back with him from the city.

“How could you stand there and lie right to her face?” Gabriel asked.

“What?” Xander pulled on his favorite, soft brown tunic.

“Aunt Jolie, you told her she looked lovely. That woman was born ugly.”

Xander smiled; trust Gabriel to state the obvious. “So? Did you see how happy she was when I complemented her? If everyone was as honest as you how many complements do you imagine she’d get?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Forget it, Gab. Hey, do you think we could lose Morgrin in the forest and go down to the lake by ourselves?”

“We probably could,” Gabriel pulled on his second boot. “But Father would have a fit when we got home.”

Xander grinned. “It’d almost be worth it.”

“Forget it, runt. Let’s go.”

He rolled his eye behind his brother’s back and skipped down the steps after him. Xander loved his brother, but he sure was a stick in the mud.

The moment they stepped out the door Morgrin said, “Finally. Let’s go.”

Mother handed Gabriel a small basket. “That’s lunch for you boys. Dinner’s at sunset, be sure your back.”

“Yes, mother,” Gabriel said.

Xander glanced up at the sky, almost high sun. Six hours until sunset, six hours with Morgrin whining and boasting and giving orders he’d feel compelled to ignore. It was going to be a long afternoon.

“Come on, Come on.” Morgrin said.

“The poles are in the shed,” Xander said. “Race you.”

Xander sprinted for the shed, Gabriel hot on his heals leaving Morgrin far behind. Xander skidded to a halt two steps ahead of his brother, bent double, sucking air.

“Beat you,” He said between gasps.

“I’ll get you next time,” Gabriel said his breath coming in wheezes.

Morgrin arrived about the time Xander caught his breath. He took the basket from Gabriel while his brother opened the shed door. Inside the shed a clutter of tools, shovels, rakes, hoes, you name it, filled all three sides. In the far left corner half a dozen cane poles leaned against the wall. Xander took one and slung the odds and ends bag over his shoulder. Gabriel grabbed his pole and a shovel.

They found Morgrin glaring at them when they came out. “Poles are in the back,” Xander said.

“I want that one.” Morgrin pointed at the pole in Xander’s hand.

Xander narrowed his eyes, ready for the first fight of the day. Out of the corner of his eye he caught his brother subtle head shake. Fine, he’d play nice for now. Xander tossed him the pole and went to fetch another; they were all the same anyway.

When Xander had a new pole they set out for the pond. The walk usually took ten minutes but with Morgrin along it took half an hour. When the crystal blue water came in sight Xander sighed, his tension fading. After the library the pond was his favorite place on the estate. Boulders jutted out in the pond, perfect for sun bathing while you fished or for jumping off in the summer. A little brook ran into it from the west and a second ran out to the southeast.

Gabriel found a damp spot in the shade and set to digging. Soon they each had a fat worm on their hooks. Xander settled on to his favorite flat rock and flicked his line out.

“I’m going to catch the most fish,” Morgrin said, as if by saying it would make so.

To make a lie of his words Xander’s rod bent and after a brief struggle he hoisted a fat sixteen inch rainbow trout out of the pond. Xander set fish and rod on the ground and dug a three foot length of rope with a spike on one end out of the satchel. He tied the fish to the line, drove the spike into the bank, and tossed the fish back into the pond to keep cool.

“I will catch the most fish.” Morgrin glared at Xander.

Two hours later Xander had two trout, Gabriel one and Morgrin nothing. Morgrin threw his pole down, stomped over to an oak stump and sat. He looked over at Xander. “Bring me something to eat.”

Xander looked over and raised an eyebrow. “Come get it yourself.”

Morgrin heaved himself up and planted his fists on his ample hips. “I said bring me that basket, now.”

No longer feeling polite Xander said, “And I said waddle your fat ass over here and get it yourself.”

Morgrin’s face turned red and his eyes about bugged out of his head. “You don’t dare speak to me that way. I’ll bloody your nose, you runt.”

Grinning now, Xander hopped to his feet and started toward Morgrin, leaving the basket behind. If he could get the fat idiot to throw the first punch he’d be free to let him have it.

“Xander.” Gabriel’s voice held a warning in it that Xander had heard many times but seldom heeded.

When he stood a couple feet away Xander said, “Take your best shot.”

Morgrin drew back and let fly with a wild haymaker that Xander ducked under. The force of the blow spun Morgrin half way around. Xander darted in before the bigger boy got turned around. When Morgrin spun back Xander’s face was inches from his.

“Boo!” Xander said.

Morgrin staggered back, arms flailing for balance. Xander laughed.

“No one dares laugh at me!” Morgrin charged, arms flailing.

Xander waited until the last second, stepped left and stuck his right foot in Morgrin’s path. The bigger boy went sprawling. When Morgrin got to his feet his pants were torn, tears and snot ran down his face. He wiped his face with the back of his hand.