And then the doors were thrown open, and his tall, dark figure strode across the threshold. He looked a lord, master of this hall and any other, Sabina thought, and she gripped the hard wood, lest she run across the room to throw herself into his arms. The action would not be welcome, she guessed, and one glance at his cold expression only confirmed her suspicions.
‘My lord,’ she said, bowing her head.
‘Mistress Sexton.’ His tone was clipped, his expression forbidding as he took his usual seat. The other residents of Grim’s End, alerted by the sound of the doors, began appearing, and Sabina knew she had little time for private speech.
‘I would beg your pardon for my abruptness last night,’ she said. ‘It was late, and I was indisposed.’
Although he nodded, the brusque movement held no forgiveness, and Sabina sank into her chair, her body tense. She would have said more, but the sound of Urban’s hail echoed across the hall.
‘Mistress Sexton!’ The steward headed directly towards her, and he looked no more pleased than Lord de Burgh.
‘Yes, Urban, what is it?’ Sabina asked, though she had little patience for the man. Obviously, she had not imagined Lord de Burgh’s visit to her room. Had she recalled his words correctly, as well?
‘I told you when you invited this man into your home that he was dangerous,’ Urban said, pointing to Lord de Burgh. ‘Now he is accosting those who live here, though he has no right. I am the Sexton steward, and this man holds no sway over me.’ He looked to Sabina as though expecting her to confirm his words, but she said nothing. She still wasn’t sure what had happened last night.
‘I am doing as you bid, trying to find out what is menacing Grim’s End and put a stop to it. Since we know there is no dragon, we must look to other causes,’ Lord de Burgh said, with a pointed look at Urban.
Sabina blinked in confusion. ‘You think Urban is responsible?’ she asked. The very notion was laughable, and she could see why such a claim would have raised the steward’s hackles, for he had proven his worth many times over in the past months.
‘Obviously, he cannot send fire through the air when he is here in the village,’ Lord de Burgh said. ‘But I would know why he is sneaking out in the dead of night to dig holes in the mound. Is he trying to poke the dragon to life?’
Sabina sucked in a sharp breath at the words, for they too closely echoed her own fears. But if there was no dragon, how had anyone reawakened it?
‘Or is there something you haven’t told me about the legends of Grim’s End?’ Lord de Burgh asked, fixing her with a hard look.
There were things she hadn’t told him, but they didn’t really pertain to any legends, Sabina thought. Still, she flushed and glanced away to where Urban stood, his stance not quite as righteous. Indeed, he appeared uncomfortable now, as though Lord de Burgh’s taunt had struck home.
‘What were you doing?’ Sabina asked the steward, for she could find no reasonable explanations for his actions, nothing that made sense to her anyway.
Urban drew himself up. ‘You would listen to this stranger when I have served the Sextons faithfully? You charged him to slay the dragon, and yet he has not done so, but continues to exert more and more influence over you and explain his lack by denying there is such a beast.’
‘There is no such beast,’ Lord de Burgh confirmed. ‘There are people—or perhaps only one man—responsible for killing your animals, scaring your residents and setting fire to your fields and your buildings. He’s learned how to send flames through the sky, probably because of a visit to the east, maybe a crusade, or contact with some foreign traveler—’
His speech was cut off by the clatter of something crashing to the floor. The distraction allowed Sabina to draw in the breath that had caught in her throat as Ursula bent to pick up the cup she had dropped on her way in from the kitchens.
‘Excuse me, my lord,’ the older woman muttered, her face ashen. But Lord de Burgh paid Ursula no heed. He was glaring at Urban, and Sabina gripped the arms of her chair, struggling against the panic that threatened. It was a coincidence, nothing more, Sabina told herself.
She looked to Ursula, but the woman had ducked her head. Surely her attendant could not believe…? And yet, Ursula did not know all, Sabina realised. Still, she shook her head, unable to take such a leap of logic.
‘’Tis nonsense!’ Urban said. He looked pale, as well, but he didn’t know, couldn’t know…He whirled towards Sabina. ‘Mistress, you can vouch that I have done none of those things, but have always served you well.’
Sabina nodded, for, in truth, how could Urban had done anything when he was with them most of the time?
The steward appeared relieved. ‘And I am always serving you, mistress. Even last night I was working on your behalf.’ He paused, as though still hesitant to explain himself, then hurried on. ‘If you must know, I was so desperate to rid ourselves of this interloper,’ he said, glaring at Lord de Burgh, ‘that I would find some way to pay a real dragon-slayer.’
Sabina eyed him curiously.
‘I refer to the legend, not of the dragon, but of the Sexton hoard,’ Urban explained. ‘After you mentioned it, I began thinking about it and realised that it could be the answer to all our problems.’
Sabina could only shake her head at such folly.
But Urban licked his lips, as if in glee. ‘And I decided to begin looking for it at night, to avoid the prying eyes of those who might steal it from me.’
Sabina dared not look at Lord de Burgh, for she could not imagine him taking anything, even an imaginary hoard of coins.
‘But he spied upon me!’ Urban said. ‘Mistress, call him off, for I have a right to do all that I can for you and Grim’s End without his interference.’
Sabina frowned. She understood why Urban felt threatened, but the knight was only doing his duty, and Urban’s nocturnal doings were peculiar, at best. Sabina did not like the idea of anyone wandering about alone, especially at night, if only for their own protection.
‘Peregrine and I have come up with a solution,’ Lord de Burgh said, though a glance at his squire told Sabina the boy was not very enthusiastic. ‘We shall begin digging ourselves to see what can be found.’
‘What?’ Sabina asked, startled. And she was not alone, for all the residents of Grim’s End appeared dismayed by such a suggestion.
‘We will start where Urban was working,’ Lord de Burgh said, turning towards the steward.
Everyone looked at Urban, who was sputtering a protest, as if horrified, though perhaps not for the same reasons as the rest of them.
‘If your coins are there, then all to the good,’ Lord de Burgh said to Sabina. ‘If not, then there is no harm done.’
‘But I think there will be harm,’ Sabina protested. ‘That hill holds our history, and ’tis shameful to defile a grave, whether a dragon is buried there or not.’ The words rang in her ears, so similar to those she had spoken once before that she felt a sudden chill.
‘’Tis all nonsense!’ Sabina insisted. ‘Urban knows I have no hidden stash of gold, that the Sextons have always lived simply.’
‘And yet, he sneaks out at night to look for it,’ Lord de Burgh said. ‘Perhaps Urban is not the only one who believes the legend. Does anyone else know of it?’
‘’Tis hardly a legend, my lord, just an old rumour, rarely mentioned,’ Sabina said. ‘Urban, did you speak of this with anyone else?’
He shook his head, and Sabina chose to believe him, rather than give in to her growing sense of dread.
‘What of the rest of you?’ Lord de Burgh asked, glancing at the other faces in the hall. ‘What have you heard of this treasure?’
Sabina flinched at the word. ‘There is no treasure!’
‘Gamel told us lots of stories,’ Alec said. ‘I can’t remember any about the Sextons, though. Most involved his ancestors and some king, Cyneric the Grim, who was buried with riches.’
‘In the mound,’ Lord de Burgh said, smugly.
‘I, too, heard my kinsman’s accounts, and I might have repeated some of them to one of the villagers,’ Ursula admitted. ‘But he is dead.’
She looked at Sabina, her face bleak, and Sabina blanched. She told herself it was all a coincidence, random bits and pieces of old gossip and happenings that were not connected. Yet her heart began to pound wildly as the old fears rushed back under a new guise. She had thought nothing more frightening than a dragon, attacking from the skies, but there were other evils, less deadly perhaps, but more personal and just as horrifying.
‘Will you join me, Mistress Sexton?’
Sabina was sunk so deeply in her own tortured thoughts that she started at the mention of her name. She looked up to see that Lord de Burgh had risen from his seat and was awaiting her reply. Although she would go nearly anywhere with this man and do almost anything for him, she shook her head. What he planned to do struck too close to home, to the very heart of Grim’s End.
Lord de Burgh showed not a flicker of reaction to her refusal, but turned towards Urban, his dark brows lifted in question. ‘And you?’
‘I might not be able to stop you, but I will not watch you steal from Sexton property,’ Urban said.
His words surprised Sabina. ‘How do you know ’tis Sexton property?’ she asked.
Urban appeared stunned by her question. ‘Why, I just assumed…’ he began, then he frowned. ‘’Tis Sexton land from the Marking Stone to the church.’
‘The old church,’ Sabina said.
Urban licked his lips. ‘But I thought…The Sextons have always tended the mound.’
‘I don’t think anyone could actually own it, for ’tis a landmark that stands for the beginning of Grim’s End, its very founding,’ Sabina said. As she spoke, she glanced towards Lord de Burgh, but he was already turning away, ignoring her protests.
‘I’ll come,’ Alex said, but Adele shushed him.
So Lord de Burgh went alone, while the rest of the villagers remained in the hall, with Peregrine awkwardly keeping them company—or ‘spying’ upon them, as Urban claimed. It was just the first of his many rants.
‘Your father would be horrified to see you relinquish your authority to a stranger, handing over Grim’s End as though ’tis but a trifle,’ the steward said, nearly as soon as the doors had shut.
Sabina did not comment, for she suspected that her father would have approved very much of Lord de Burgh and might have ceded more to the knight, perhaps even his daughter. But that was before, Sabina thought, frowning. Now she would make no man a wife.
‘You cannot let him take away our very liberty,’ Urban continued. ‘You must make a stand and tell him that he has no authority over us.’
Sabina shook her head. ‘I begged this man to help us, and that is what he is doing.’
Urban scoffed. ‘Helping himself is more likely,’ he muttered.
‘The de Burghs have more wealth than you can imagine,’ Peregrine said, glaring at the steward. ‘Lord Reynold has no need of the dragon’s treasure!’
Stunned by his words, Sabina sucked in a sharp breath and glanced at the boy, who coloured and turned away. The dragon’s treasure? How had an old rumour of coins become something else entirely? Sabina wondered, her dread returning.
Urban, too, appeared dismayed. But then his expression turned sour once more. ‘Well, I, for one, won’t stand for it.’
Sabina eyed him scornfully. She didn’t know how the older man expected to hold sway over Lord de Burgh, and she grew weary of his constant complaints. He had brought all this upon himself. Indeed, there had been no talk of treasure until his ill-fated venture under the moon. ‘Perhaps if you would stay in at night, you could go about as you pleased.’
‘I will not be dictated to!’
Astonished, Sabina turned to face him. Urban had always been dictated to, by her or her father or others as he achieved each new position. It was only after the population of Grim’s End dwindled that he began to act as though he was her father, owner of the manor and most of the village, as well.
‘I will tell you what I’ve told everyone here often enough,’ Sabina said, meeting his gaze directly. ‘You are free to go at any time.’
An expression of shock crossed his face, to be replaced quickly by entreaty. ‘Let us all go, at last,’ he said. ‘Then that petty lord will have no reason to stay, either.’
Sabina shook her head. She was not going to abandon Lord de Burgh when he was here at her behest, doing what she had begged him to do. And it would be hard enough to part with him eventually; she would not hasten that pain. And for what? There was nothing waiting for her elsewhere.
Sabina didn’t know what Urban saw when he looked at her, but he backed away, shaking his head angrily. Then he turned and headed towards the cellar, sending a sharp glance at Peregrine, as though daring the boy to follow.
Sabina watched the steward with a heavy heart, for he had served the Sextons well, and at one time he was all that had held their small band together. But now it seemed that their world was falling apart, unravelling like a fallen skein of thread upon the hard tiles.
Reynold paused to lean upon his shovel. Wearily, he stretched his aching leg and wondered whether to abandon his work. At first the labour had been a welcome way to ease his frustrations, and he had thrust the implement into the ground with increasing force. Alone with his thoughts, he had kept at it, not even returning to the manor for dinner.
But as the day dragged and the soil did not yield up anything, Reynold had begun to tire of the chore. His leg pained him, his other muscles protested, and he questioned his purpose. As with the dragon itself, what had seemed so sensible earlier now appeared fanciful, with about as much substance as a pair of fur breeches soaked in tar.
If local legends had put a fortune here, someone would have looked for it long ago, Reynold reasoned. And, if anything had been found, that, too, would have passed into legend. Instead, the residents viewed the spot as the dragon’s resting place, nothing else. And who would imperil himself by poking around the beast’s tomb?
Reynold frowned. And yet, such a warning would do much to keep the villagers at bay. And perhaps the Sextons not only watched the church, but the mound, as well, to prevent any exploration of the area. Mistress Sexton certainly seemed outraged at the idea of plundering the ground. But she had not forbade him, either. Reynold shook his head. Now he was arguing with himself and imagining enough to fill a tale.
Tired and hungry, Reynold threw the shovel over his shoulder and limped back to the manor. The small building, tucked among some trees, was a welcome sight as he approached. He realised, with some dismay, that it had come to represent home for him. Only for now, he told himself. Perhaps only for a small while longer, he thought, then stifled a pang. Perversely, despite the door that had been slammed in his face, he yearned to remain.
Frowning at the thought, Reynold flung open the doors and dragged the dirty shovel with him, lest it disappear from his sight. He would have to send Peregrine to see what other tools could be found in the stables and outbuildings, for he had no desire to travel to another village for such an implement.
At his entrance, Mistress Sexton rose, a look of concern upon her beautiful face. Was it for what he had done or what she feared he might find? Reynold wondered.
‘Let me get you a willow-bark tisane,’ she said, as she hurried towards him. ‘Adele, heat some water for Lord de Burgh.’
Something inside Reynold eased at the knowledge that her concern was for him. Even though he knew it sprang from his service, not himself, he yearned for her nurturing, like a plant craved the sun. Yet he told himself it was the offer of a bath that was most welcome, and he grunted at the thought of a long soak. He would haul the buckets himself, rather than go without, just this once.
While Reynold ate, a metal tub, too small for his tall frame, but big enough to sit in, was found and dragged to the kitchens, where it would be easier to fill. And when the water was heated, he and the residents of Grim’
s End, well trained in handling buckets, made short work of the chore.
Soon Reynold stood before a full tub, eager to remove his filthy clothes, especially the hard mail that he had been wearing every day since he left Campion. The others drifted from the kitchens until, finally, he was alone with Mistress Sexton. The sun was sinking low outside, and she stood in the gathering gloom, more beautiful than ever when lit by the soft glow of the fire.
‘Do you want me to…’ Her words trailed off, and she looked away, only to draw a breath and return her gaze to his. ‘Shall I help?’
Reynold felt as though he had been struck by a lance, hard in his chest and belly and below. As so often before when facing Mistress Sexton’s charms, his wits seemed to flee, for he did not bother to wonder why she would make such an offer. He only yearned to agree, to let her strip the garments from his body and wash his aching flesh with her gentle hands.
For a long moment, they stood a few feet apart, the steaming water on one side, the fire on the other, and the very air cracked with the tension between them. Desire rose up so fierce as to nearly overcome Reynold, and he could have sworn it was reflected in Mistress Sexton’s pale face. He had only to nod to set something in motion that he had only imagined, something far beyond his wildest dreams.
‘My lord!’
The sound of Peregrine’s anguished shout broke the spell. Mistress Sexton’s expression turned to one of alarm, and Reynold put his hand upon the hilt of his sword, the long moment of temptation forgotten in the face of some new threat.
‘I—I think he’s gone,’ Peregrine said, appearing at the top of the stairs that led below.
‘What? Who?’ Mistress Sexton asked, but Reynold knew immediately. He waited, scowling, as his squire hurried to explain.
‘Urban,’ Peregrine said. ‘I—He went to the cellars earlier, and since there is no other way out of them except the stairs, I did not…’ Peregrine paused to draw a deep breath. ‘I did not keep good watch.’
[The deBurghs 07] - Reynold De Burgh: The Dark Knight Page 16