“I estimate his takings at twelve crowns.”
“That’s it?” said Frederick. He wore a look of surprise, a look that misled his son.
“So you’ll punish him?” asked Ludwig.
Lord Frederick glanced down at some papers in front of him, avoiding a direct gaze. “I’m rather surprised he didn’t take more,” he said at last. “He shows signs of care.”
“Care? Why would you say that?”
His father looked directly at him. “Most people that embezzle would take far more. I would hardly say that twelve crowns constitutes a high crime, would you?”
“The amount matters little! What’s important is that he’s stealing from our tenants.”
“Our tenants are taxed uncommonly lightly compared to others,” said the baron, “this matter is hardly worth considering.”
“Would you say the same thing if it were me that was stealing?”
“That’s different.”
“Is it? Why?”
“You’ll be the baron one day,” said Lord Frederick, “and as such, you must be beyond reproach.”
“How is it any different for Berthold? Wouldn't he inherit the title if something were to happen to me?”
“He might,” his father replied, “but he’s not in the direct line of succession, making that highly unlikely to happen.”
“Anyone can grow sick,” said Ludwig, “as you well know.”
“Do not bring your mother up!” roared the baron. “Her death was tragic, I grant you, but you show a much stronger constitution.”
“Meaning I can’t get sick?”
“You were in the house during her illness,” the baron continued, “and yet didn’t succumb, neither did I. I know you loved your mother, as did I, but the truth is she was always a frail woman.”
“Frail? What in the Continent are you talking about? Mother was one of the healthiest people I’ve ever met!”
“And yet she succumbed to a fever,” said the baron, “a loss that has haunted me for years.”
“As it has me,” said Ludwig. “You were not the only one to mourn her loss.”
The baron sat in silence, and for once, Ludwig noticed the stress that had taken its toll in his father's face.
“You’re right, of course,” said the baron at last. “I should have realized it long before now.”
Ludwig was taken aback, this was not like his father.”
“What of Berthold then?” he asked.
“I shall talk to him,” said the baron, “and point out the error of his ways, I’m sure he’ll see reason.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then I shall deal with that in due course, but let us not get ahead of ourselves. I understand you’ve been seeing someone?”
Ludwig was surprised by the sudden change of topic. “Yes,” he muttered, “what of it?”
“I trust it is someone suitable to your station?”
“I believe so,” said Ludwig, but something inside him made him feel guilty. Had Kasper Piltz revealed his new relationship with Charlaine?
The baron yawned. “We’ll talk of it another time,” he said, “I’ve had a fairly busy day, and I’m thoroughly exhausted.”
“Very well, father,” said Ludwig, “in that case, I will say good night.”
“Good night, Ludwig,” his father replied, “and sleep well.”
14
Trouble
Autumn 1094 SR
* * *
Lord Malory, the Baron of Dornbruck, advanced, halting at the door. Inside the great hall, guests danced the evening away. It was the eve before the Feast of Saint Agnes, and the tradition of a ball to mark the occasion was in full swing. As a noble of Neuhafen, he was an outsider here, and yet even in his own kingdom, religious holidays were held in reverence and so he waited as someone made their way across the hall to greet him.
“Lord Malory,” the man said, “this is rather unexpected.”
“I’m here to see your lord, Piltz,” said the foreigner, “on a matter of some importance.”
“I shall take you to him immediately,” said Piltz, “but I fear this is neither the time nor place to discuss such matters.”
“I’m well aware of the holiday,” said Malory, “but my king has insisted that I make the trip as soon as possible.”
“This way,” said Piltz.
The aide guided him through the mass of people who were milling around, each in discussion with their companions, ignoring those near them. They threaded their way to Baron Verfeld, who was engaged in conversation with an older woman.
“My lord,” said Piltz, “may I introduce Lord Malory of Dornbruck?”
“Malory,” said Baron Verfeld, nodding his head. “I don’t remember inviting you?”
“You didn’t, Frederick, I’m here at the behest of my king.”
“Nothing serious, I hope?”
“On the contrary,” said Malory, “the situation is quite serious, one might even say dire.”
Lord Frederick made a sour face, then turned to his companion. “Where are my manners, allow me to introduce you to Prioress Ophelia of the Church of Saint Agnes.”
“Your Grace,” said Malory, “pardon the intrusion, I had no desire to interrupt the festivities.”
“And yet here you are,” said the prioress. "Come now, Lord Malory, do they not celebrate the Feast of Saint Agnes in Neufeld?”
“They do,” Malory replied, glancing around the room, “though perhaps not with quite the same enthusiasm.”
“And will the baroness be gracing us with her presence this evening?”
“I’m afraid not,” said Malory, “she was unwilling to make the trip.”
“Lord Malory,” said Baron Verfeld, “is master of the lands across the river, to the northeast of here. Isn’t that right, Malory?”
“It is, though I seldom find myself on this side of the water.”
“What brings you this way?” asked the prioress. "Surely you have not made the trip on my behalf?”
“No,” said Malory, “as I said earlier, I’m here on a matter of some import.”
“In that case,” said the prioress, “I shall leave you two to have your discussion.” She wandered off, soon finding conversation elsewhere.
Lord Frederick turned to his visitor in annoyance. “What is it this time, Malory? One of your pigs cross the river again?”
“No, something much more serious.”
“Do tell.”
“There was an incident at the river a week ago.”
“What kind of incident,” pressed Frederick.
“It seems your son crossed the border again, this time in the company of a woman.”
“A woman you say? Can you describe her?”
“She is described as having long dark coloured hair, possibly black or a dark brown. Oh, and she appeared to be foreign.”
“I knew it,” said Lord Frederick, “it’s that cursed smith again. Be that as it may, that hardly seems a reason for you to come all the way here.”
“I must remind you that Neufeld and Hadenfeld were once a single kingdom.”
“That changed when you rebelled,” said Frederick, “but that was decades ago, why bring it up now?”
“King Ruger is most insistent that the borders be respected.”
“Your king should lighten up,” said Frederick, “Ludwig is only a boy.”
“He is a full-grown man,” warned Malory, “and you know as well as I how paranoid my king can be. He sees it as an attempt by the King of Hadenfeld to press his claim over our realm.”
“I can assure you that Otto has no such intention.”
“Still, the fact remains that this has caused some concern at court. It would have been different had he and his companion not fought back.”
Lord Frederick’s face went pale. “Fought back?”
“Aye, it appears his companion laid hands on one of our soldiers.”
Frederick laughed. “Are you saying your soldiers we
re bettered by a young girl?”
“This is no laughing matter, Frederick. If it isn’t handled properly it could lead to war. Ruger is already chomping at the bit.”
“Over this? I find that hard to believe.”
“I’m afraid it’s true,” said Malory. “Neufeld is still a young state and the nobles are vying for control. Ruger wants to be seen as a decisive leader, he’s desperate to show strength.”
“I understand, but over this?”
“Can you say that your king would act any differently were the situation reversed?”
Frederick nodded his head. “You have a point there, but what is it you expect me to do? I can’t very well deliver my own son up to him.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” said Malory, “but a stern reprimand of your son, along with a letter of apology might go a long way to mollifying him.”
Frederick bristled. “Apologize? To that upstart?”
“That upstart has a large standing army,” said Malory, “are you sure you’d like to give him cause to cross the border and start another war?”
“If he wants to invade, I doubt an apology from me will carry weight.”
“Still,” said Malory, “we must try. At least an apology might convince the other nobles of the folly if invading.”
“I would have to get the approval of King Otto,” said Frederick, “and that would take time.”
“Understood, but things should be put into motion as soon as possible, I can’t hold off Ruger forever.”
“Very well,” grumbled Frederick, “I don’t like it, but I see your reasoning. I shall compose a letter to my king this very night and send it off first thing in the morning. Will that suffice.”
“It will have to,” said Malory, “I only hope it’s enough.”
“I’ll send word once I’ve received a reply, then we can move forward on a resolution.”
“Assuming your king agrees,” said Malory, “do you think he will allow it?”
“Ordinarily, I’d say yes, but King Otto can be a stubborn man on occasion.”
“Let us hope such is not the case this time.” Lord Malory visibly relaxed. “Thank you, Lord Frederick, you’ve set my mind at ease, at least for the present.”
“We do what we must to keep the peace,” the Baron of Verfeld replied. “Now, since you’re here anyway, why not have a drink?”
“I shall be delighted,” Malory replied.
* * *
It was late in the evening by the time the guests all left. Lord Frederick saw the last of them out, then made his way to his office. Kasper Piltz, knowing his master well, was waiting, a hot rum in hand.
“Ah, Kasper, you know just what I needed.”
“Of course, my lord,” the man replied.
“Has Ludwig gone to bed yet?”
“No, shall I fetch him?”
“If you would,” said the baron, “I didn’t want to bring this up at the festivities, but I’m afraid he’s put his foot into it for once and I don’t know if I can extricate him.”
“I shall fetch him immediately.”
Piltz rushed off while Frederick took a seat, sipping the rum gingerly.
By the time his son arrived, the cup sat empty.
“Ludwig,” said the baron, “you came to me about Berthold’s behaviour the other day and yet is appears it’s your own behaviour that is causing problems.”
“I don’t understand,” said Ludwig.
“You rode into Neufeld territory.”
“I did, but no more than a horses length.”
“That’s beside the point,” said the baron, “you were seen, by soldiers no less.”
“What of it?” asked Ludwig. “We were unarmed.”
“And yet your companion assaulted a warrior.”
“Assaulted? Surely you jest?”
“Did she or did she not attack one of their soldiers?”
“If she did, I didn’t see it.”
“That makes it even worse,” said the baron. “If you’d been a witness, at least we’d have the facts, but as it is, we have to rely on second-hand reports.”
“I doubt anyone was injured if that’s what you mean.”
“And yet it has created an incident, a minor one to be sure, but the King of Neufeld is eager for any excuse. Wars have been started for less. Who was this woman?”
Ludwig was caught, for he knew his father's dislike of the smith.
“Out with it man, this is no time for hiding things.”
“It was Charlaine,” he said, “you remember, the smith?”
“Just as Mayfield said it would be, and now she has led you astray.”
“It was my idea to cross the river, Father.”
“Perhaps it was,” said the baron, “but if you hadn’t been trying to impress her, you never would have done so. I can’t trust you around her, Ludwig, you are too easily swayed when in her company.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you are forbidden to see her,” his father announced. “And don’t try to deny that you have been, I have a full report from the forester.”
“Then why ask?”
“I wanted to see if you’d come clean about her,” the baron said.
“I can’t stop seeing her,” said Ludwig, “I love her.”
“No,” he said, “you’re in love with the idea of her, there’s a difference. You like the fact that she’s a strong minded woman.”
“You’re wrong,” said Ludwig, “it’s more than that, she completes me.”
“Completes you? Don’t make me laugh.”
“It’s true, I can be myself around her. You wouldn’t understand.”
“I understand plenty,” his father said. “For years you’ve dallied with girls, now you find one that has thoughts in her head and you’re smitten, that’s all. It’s a simple infatuation, nothing more.”
“I disagree,” said Ludwig.
“You can disagree all you like, but in this house it’s me that makes the decisions. You will no longer see this woman, that is an order.”
“And if I refuse to obey?”
“Then there shall be dire repercussions, not only for you, but her as well. Do not test me, Ludwig, my mind is set on this.”
“Is there nothing I can say that would change your mind?”
“Nothing, my word is final.”
Ludwig fumed, but knew once his father’s mind was made up, there was little he could do. “Very well,” he said, “then I shall have to live with that decision.”
The baron’s voice softened. “I know it’s tough, Ludwig, but you’ll get over this. In time you’ll see it’s the right decision.”
Ludwig frowned. “Am I free to go?”
“You are,” said his father, “but you’ll remain in the keep for a few days, I’ll not have you sneaking off into the town to resume this relationship.”
“May I send word to her, telling of your decision?”
“No, absolutely not, it will only encourage her.”
“But I must do something,” said Ludwig.
“Fear not,” said the baron, “I shall keep you busy enough that she will soon become a distant memory.”
“I doubt that.”
“Once day you’ll thank me for this, son.”
“We’ll see,” said Ludwig, “we’ll see.”
15
The Inn
Autumn 1094 SR
* * *
The Feast of Saint Agnes came and went and with it any hope of Charlaine seeing Ludwig. Days stretched into a week, then two and she became increasingly concerned. It was not until two and a half weeks later that she finally saw him. She was closing up the shop when his familiar voice called out from across the street.
“Charlaine!”
She gazed across the street. “Ludwig? Is that you?”
He waved her over, staying in the shadows. “Hurry,” he said, “I haven’t much time.”
“Whatever’s the matter?” she as
ked. “I haven’t seen you for weeks.”
“My father has kept me incredibly busy,” he said, “and forbidden me to see you.”
“That didn’t stop us before, so why does it now?”
“This times different,” he replied, “he’s got someone watching me.”
“Watching you?” She glanced up and down the street. “I don’t see anyone?”
“I managed to lose him, at least temporarily.”
“I’ve missed you,” she said, “you’ve been on my mind a lot lately.”
“As have you,” he confessed. He grabbed her suddenly, pulling her back into the shadows. “Hush,” he said quietly, “someone approaches.”
She watched as a man wandered down the street. He seemed slightly drunk, but his eyes searched the shadows left and right, indicating a keen mind.
He drew closer and then Ludwig struck out, grasping the man by the tunic and hefting him against the wall. The man gasped in surprise and then found a knife at his throat.
“Who are you?” hissed Ludwig.
“Mayfield,” the man replied, “a forester by trade.”
“Why are you following me?”
The man’s eyes locked onto Ludwig’s. “Your father sent me to keep an eye on you.”
“You mean spy on me.”
“True enough,” said Mayfield, “but I’d be happy to come to another arrangement with YOU if you wish.”
“What will it cost to buy your silence?” asked Ludwig.
“A few crowns is all,” the man replied. “I can always tell your father you’ve been behaving.” His eyes swivelled to take in Charlaine. “I never saw the young woman, I swear.”
Ludwig released his grip. “Very well,” he said, fishing out his purse, “but if I hear you’ve betrayed me, it will be the end of you.”
“I was young once too,” said Mayfield.
Ludwig forked over the coins.
“Thank you, my lord, your secret is safe with me.”
“Don’t let me see you again,” warned Ludwig.
“As you wish.”
He pocketed the coins then made his way down the street, now walking at a brisk pace.
Tempered Steel Page 13