Rose Victory - Eagle Series (2 page)

“Oh, most definitely, my
lord.” A smile crossed the knight’s strong, handsome face, although it did not quite reach his dark brown eyes.  “With the mood you are in, you will either pound me into the ground, which would not look at all good in front of the men, or you will get careless and I will hurt you.”  The commander’s smile widened, “Neither are acceptable options, so I think I’ll pass.”

“Damn you
, Stefan.  I need… You know I have never lost control.”

“I have never seen you like this either.” Stefan looked the earl straight in the eye. 
At twenty-eight, a year younger than Roydon, he was only a couple of inches shorter than his friend but his equal in breadth and strength.  “You need to tell me what is going on,” he added calmly.

For a long moment Roydon stared across at his friend, his sword still raised in challenge.  Then he sighed deeply and lowered his weapon, point first to the ground.  “He has left me nothing, Stef,” he said quietly, the pain in his voice palpable.  “I thought him to be proud of me.”

“Your father?”  Stefan asked, realizing that pain and disillusion lay at the root of his friend’s anger.  Then a thought struck him.  “Eagle Rock, the earldom is yours?”

“Yes, but the coffers are empty.  He gave it all away.  There is nothing left.  I cannot pay the garrison or get seed for the spring planting.  We will not survive the winter.”

“There must be some mistake,
Roy.  Your father was proud of you, he loved you.  Hell, he was even fond of me,” he added remembering the warm welcome he had always received when he had accompanied Roydon on his infrequent home visits.  “Now, if we were speaking of my father…” Stefan left the thought hanging. It was common knowledge that his own father cared only for his heir.  His second son ignored, Stefan his third, did not even exist for him.

“I thought so too,” the resignation in the earl’s voice
showed just how deeply he had been hurt.  “But there is no mistake.  In the last few months, almost from the day that I told him I would be coming home, he started making investments in trade and shipping ventures.”

“Then all is not lost?”

“For all intents it is.  Even if there is a return on the investments, it will be years before I get anything back.  It will be too late by then.”

Stefan shook his head.  “I don’t understand this.  He could not have done this to ruin you.  Your father was hale and hearty until a few days ago. 
He fell from his horse with fatal consequences.  It was an accident. The problem would have been his.”

“I do not understand it either, but I see no way out.”

There was a short silence, then Stefan ventured.  “What if we hired out as mercenaries?  Would that help?”

“A drop in the ocean, my friend; though I thank you for the offer.  I do not even have coin to pay you, let alone the rest of the garrison.  They will all have to go
.”

“You insult me,
Roy.  You think I came here to lead your people for the fee?  You are
really
itching for that combat,” Stefan said in mock indignation.  “And I may just oblige you.”

“You know I did not mean it like that, Stef.” The earl drew his hand tiredly through his shoulder length
black hair.  “I know you are perfectly willing to starve right beside me, sitting on this pile of rocks.”

Stefan’s face broke into a grin.  “That
’s much better.  You are not so angry now.  We will find a way, Roy.  There is always a solution.”

The earl grimaced at his friend’s optimism, but then Stefan
would always stand by him.  With his friendship came loyalty and unstinting support.

“What if we went to the
king?” was Stefan’s next suggestion.  “You were one of his best commanders, I am sure he would help.”

“No,” the reply
came back quick and categorical.  “I will not go begging back to court,” a dark, forbidding frown descended on the earl’s face.

“You are a proud and stubborn fool, Roydon,” Stefan smiled to rob the words of malice.  Indeed he knew h
imself to be one of the very few men who could get away with insulting this man and not feel the edge of his sword.  “But are you too proud to accept the help of a friend?  I have little enough, but what I have is yours.”

The earl shook his head, his mouth set in a stubborn line.  “I will not take you down with me.”

“Don’t take that stance with me,
my lord
,” for the first time a hint of anger entered Stefan’s voice, his eyes flashing.  “You know I care naught for land or fortune.  A comfortable bed, good friends and a good fight now and then is all I wish for.  My gold will at least pay the garrison for an extra month or so.  It will give us time to think of something and keep greedy eyes away from Eagle Rock.  Without a garrison we are lost.”

Roydon stared at Stefan for a moment.  He knew his friend was right.  The instant his enemies, and he had several which he had made when executing the
king’s orders, heard that his lands were unprotected they would attack him with all they had.  The king would come to his aid, he was sure, but by then it would be too late.

An abrupt nod and the relaxing of the earl’s facial muscles herald the acceptance of Stefan’s offer.  “As you wish, but I will consider it a loan,” he added quickly.  “To be repaid as soon as I am able.”  Now at least he had a bit of time to think of something.

“Some sense at last,” Stephen heaved a theatrical sigh of relief.  “Stubborn and proud doesn’t begin to describe you.”

The earl raised a dark
eyebrow.  “So why put up with me?”  In spite of himself the question came out sounding almost too serious.

Stefan looked at his friend consideringly and then his face broke into a
smile although it did not quiet reach his eyes, these remained serious and earnest.  “Well I do have a comfortable bed and a good friend here.  All I am missing is a rousing combat…”

“That I can most definitely give
you, my friend,” Roydon paused, “if you have overcome your fear of me, that is,” he prodded.

Stefan’s grin widened
.  “You have calmed down enough that
I
can now pound
you
into the ground,” he raised his sword.  “Let’s give these soldiers a lesson in swordsmanship.”

The earl raised his own sword, a grin transforming the hard planes of his face.  Now,
for a moment, he could forget his problems and concentrate on the contest, his mind no longer gripped or controlled by the fist of pain and anger.

“
You
pound
me
into the ground!  Now that is an unlikely event.”  Roydon made an effort to keep up the friendly bunter as he swung the huge sword at his friend.  “But you are welcome to try,” he challenged.

Stefan parried the stroke and launched his own attack.  “Oh, I’ll
certainly try,” Stefan aimed a cutting slash for the earl’s head.  “I have to beat some of that pride and arrogance out of you.”

“You and
how many others?”  Roydon deflected the lethal swing, as Stefan knew he would, and then came at him with a series of bone jarring slashes.

A half
hour later the clash of swords could still be heard in the otherwise silent courtyard.   Both men were breathing heavily and perspiration run freely down the strong columns of their necks.  Sweat plastered their tunics to wide shoulders and muscled chests and backs.

Roydon felt better than he had all day.  The slight ache in his arms and the heaviness of his limbs a welcome distraction from his troubled thoughts.
“Enough, I think.” The earl stepped back and sheathed his sword.

“We will call it a draw then.”  Stefan rubbed his right arm, after putting his sword away.  “You have one hell of a down s
wing, Roy.”  With an impatient gesture he re-gathered his dark blond, shoulder length hair and tied it with a leather strip at the nape of his neck.

“I do try to please,” A smile
flickered across the earl’s face and then he sobered.  “A bath for me before the evening meal and then we have to talk.  Come up as soon as you can.”

Stefan nodded, but said nothing, as he watched his friend stride quickly through the admiring men who had witnessed the impressive combat of their leaders.

<><><>

Two hours later and the evening meal over, the earl still did not have a solution to the
impossible situation he found himself in.  The High Table had been cleared but both the earl and Sir Stefan, who sat beside him, still lingered, cups of wine before them.  The trestle tables had been stacked against the walls in the Hall and the soldiers had left for their accommodation in the middle bailey.  Only some servants remained and those were already preparing for sleep on their pallets in the dark Hall. The only source of light in the cavernous room the banked embers of the huge fireplace, around which the serfs had laid their blankets and the candles at the high table. 

The earl waved his steward forward into the pool of light cast by the handful of candles.
“Take a seat Brecov,” he indicated the long bench on the opposite side of the table.  “What more bad tidings do you bring?” he asked pessimistically, noting the servant’s glum countenance as the old man settled down and placed several parchments on the table. 

Brecov
glanced up at the earl and then quickly away, his thin, blue veined hands fidgeted nervously with the documents.  “It’s the Saracen jewels, my lord,” he whispered at last. 

“Of course!
” A wave of relief swept away all Roydon’s worries in one swoop.  How could he have forgotten his grandfather’s treasure chest?  He had played with the colourful bubbles often enough as a child at the older man’s feet. A solution at last; the salvation of Eagle Rock.  The gold from their sale would easily carry them through the winter, after that the Holding could maintain itself. 

“What Saracen jewel
s?” Stefan was glad to see the relief on his friend’s face but had no idea what they spoke of. 

“My grandfather brought a small chest of jewels from the
Holy Land when he returned from the Crusades,” the earl explained quickly.  “When I sell them, our problems will be at an end.” The smile froze on his face the moment he turned from Stefan and saw the steward shaking his head, his eyes downcast. 

“The chest is missing, my
lord.”  Brecov’s voice was scarcely audible, a thin whisper of sound. 

“What!”
the earl’s angry bellow reverberated through the Hall.  The people by the fireplace jumped in startled fear and seemed to shrink back towards the fire.  They seemed to prefer the flames behind them to the conflagration that was erupting at the Lord’s Table. The earl had risen to his feet, a murderous glare pinned the steward to his seat.  “What do you mean missing?” His brief flare of hope splattered and died. 

“You are scaring the man to death, Roydon.” Stefan spoke calmly from his place beside the earl.  “Let him explain.”

The earl looked at his friend and subsided back onto his chair, raking his hair back from his brow, “Well?” 

“I noticed it missing this afternoon
when you left, my lord, but it could have been removed days, even weeks ago.” The steward shrugged his shoulders.  “It is kept in a bigger chest in the estate chamber where we were today.  I too had forgotten its existence, until you left.  I planned to bring it to you now but when I went to get it, it was gone.”

“Who has access to that chamber?” Stefan asked sharply. 

“Only my lord and I have keys to both the door and the big chest, Sir Stefan,” admitted the steward.  Unconsciously he clutched the bunch of keys that dangled from his belt. “No one else could have gotten into the chamber.”

“
I do not believe my father would have given the jewels away too!” Roydon asserted.  “He would have been mad to do so.”

“Lord Jayden was sane until the moment he fell from his
horse and died.” The steward’s voice rose in defence of his old master.  “He must have hidden the jewels somewhere.”

“And that is the act of a sane man?” Roydon challenged the steward.  “That and ruining the
Holding?”

“The mas
ter did not expect to die.  He eagerly awaited your arrival, my lord.”  Tears trickled down the old man’s cheeks.  “He would never have done anything to hurt you or Eagle Rock.  He was stubborn and he liked to get his own way, but he loved you.”

“I know,” Roydon said quietly, moved by Brecov’s tears.  “If only the king had not detained me for those extra three months
…” he left the thought unfinished.

The steward leaned forward then, his hand pushing the documents across the table towards the earl.  “I found these the day after Lord Jayden’s
death, the day you arrived, while I was drawing up an accounting for your inspection.”  Brecov’s hand trembled slightly as it rested for a moment on the parchments.  “They might throw some light on Lord Jayden’s actions.”

“You did not think to show them to me before?” a frown marred Roydon’s forehead, an angry glitter in his eyes.