They had decided that they should look for herbs while they were walking the estate. Anna had produced an ancient book from the library. In it, were sketches and notes on different types of herbs. Gerald knew some of them, albeit with different names, but the book had been fascinating to both of them. They had poured over it for almost two weeks, searching around the immediate vicinity for some of the more common types. They had decided against taking it with them for it was far too valuable a book to risk damaging, but Gerald had written down descriptions of some of the plants. Anna's handwriting was getting better, but she was meticulous and slow when it came to her writing.
They left the cottage just as the sun was coming up. They would start by heading east, toward the furthest extent of the estate. The entire property had a fence around it in theory. In some places, it was a stone wall, principally near the Hall, while at other locations it was a simple wooden fence, meant only to mark the edge of the grounds. There were numerous places where there was no fence at all. This allowed a generous amount of wildlife to enter the estate grounds.
Gerald had become accustomed to his brace and cane, and he could now walk the grounds, confident in his ability to keep up.
They cut across a field, the early morning mist still clinging to the ground. They could hear Tempus bounding ahead of them, occasionally chasing after a rabbit or a squirrel, but he never strayed far. He had little chance of catching the creatures, for in his saddlebags was his metal bowl and some metal plates that Anna had taken from the Hall. They banged together noisily when he ran, scattering the wildlife in multiple directions ahead of him.
If one were to draw a map of the estate, the Hall would be in the southwest corner, so when they reached the eastern extent, they turned north, following the wooden fence that marked the borders.
They kept up a steady pace, but Gerald made sure they took breaks to drink some water. This included Tempus, who would amble over when he was called. It was almost noon by the time they decided to stop for lunch. They were near the northeast corner of the estate, as far as they could reckon. There was a rise here that had a good view of the area, so they made their way up the hill, its top surmounted by an open field. They unpacked a blanket from one of Tempus' saddlebags and laid it on the ground; then they proceeded to bring out lunch. The view from here was spectacular! They could see the Hall off in the distance, a small white mark on a green background. They were also aware that the maps they had been using were either very out of date, or very inaccurate, but that was part of the fun. They felt like they were on a voyage of discovery.
They were sitting on the blanket having just eaten their meat pies. Anna opened the small pot and withdrew two pastries, passing one carefully to Gerald. Tempus lay nearby, as usual acting as the back of Anna's chair. Gerald looked over at Tempus. He was such devoted dog; it was remarkable how much the two of them got along.
"Anna?" he asked, interrupting her careful deconstruction of the pastry; she had a knack for pulling them apart as she devoured them. "How did you and Tempus meet? You've never told me."
She finished off the pastry, carefully licking each finger clean. "I came to the estate when I was really young," she started, "but I don't really remember that. I remember not knowing him. I think I was three, at least that's what Hanson says. I remember some sort of nightmare. There were men with skeleton faces. They broke into my room and tried to kill me. Then I remember hiding under the blankets and screaming. Tempus charged in and killed them. He saved my life. Ripped their throats out. Mrs Henderson, my old nanny, was furious at the mess; there was blood everywhere. She said that Tempus was dangerous, and should be put down, but I said no, he had saved my life. Hanson agreed, and after that, he would sleep in my room. He's actually supposed to sleep on the floor, but after the servants leave, I invite him onto the bed." She grinned as she talked. “He's always been there for me, and for a long time, he was my only friend. Until you came along, that is. The other servants were always too scared to be my friend. That's why when I met you I didn't tell you who I was. I was afraid you would be scared of me."
"He really is your best friend," Gerald marvelled, "and he loves that bone you brought for him."
She turned slightly to pet him, and Tempus moved his massive head toward her, temporarily forgetting his bone. The adoration was evident for all to see, from both of them.
"So where did he come from. Dogs like Tempus don't grow on trees?" he asked.
"I'm not really sure. I looked for his type in the library once. I think he's a Mastiff. A Kurathian Mastiff. Does that sound right?"
Gerald recognized the breed, though he had never seen one before Tempus. "Interesting," he mused. "Kurathian Mastiffs are trained as warrior dogs. They specialize in bringing down horses. They say they can bring down a full warhorse, even armoured, but I've never heard of one in Merceria before."
"I don't know how he came to be in Merceria, but the king likes to fight dogs. Tempus made him quite a lot of coins in the pits and so, when he got older, he was honourably retired."
"Funny," said Gerald, "I would think that he would retire him in Wincaster if he were fond of him. Isn't that where the king usually lives?"
"Yes," said Anna, "but the king likes his mistress better, and she hates dogs." You could see the bitterness in her face when she spoke of the king’s mistress.
"But he's mine now, aren't you Tempus!" She buried her head into his neck.
Gerald mulled over the conversation. There was no doubt in his mind that Tempus was capable of killing a man. He was exceedingly gentle with Anna, but he could imagine him becoming vicious in a fight. He liked Tempus, and Tempus liked him. Most of the staff found the ugly brute distasteful. Their words, he could tell, upset Anna, but Gerald didn't see an ugly brute; he saw a veteran of fights who pledged his life to protect the princess. There were knights, he thought, that would do well to emulate him. The staff would have been horrified at the carnage he had inflicted; he had no doubt. War for Gerald had always been a fight to the death. You don't play games in war, he had learned, you do what you need to do to survive. Perhaps he saw a simpler version of himself in the great dog.
A thought flicked across his mind and brought him out of his musings. "Did you say earlier that the men had skeleton faces?"
"Well, not real skeleton heads. They had hoods covering their faces with skeleton faces painted on them. We saw that after they'd been killed. Hanson pulled the mask off one of them. They were just men underneath."
Gerald told himself he must look into this. There was something that bothered him about the whole affair. He believed Anna's story, but couldn't figure out why someone would want to kill a small child, or why they would wear such strange garments.
He was musing on just this topic when Anna drew his attention to the sky. Clouds were beginning to roll in and threatened rain. They packed up what was left of their lunch, resolving to return to their base camp, their name for the Hall. Their operation had been carried out successfully for the most part, and they decided that the rest of the estate could wait.
They cut across the estate diagonally, making their way back scarcely in time to avoid the storm. It was just starting to spit as they entered the Hall. They left their packs and boots in the entrance hall, and Anna asked if he wanted to see her library. She was obviously very proud of this, so he agreed.
He had not spent much time in the Hall; its size was overwhelming to him. She led him into the main hallway, then up the grand staircase. They turned to the left, continuing on to the north wing. This was near her room. The building faced west; the north wing was to the left as one was looking to the front of Uxley Hall. Anna had a bedroom and a playroom, but very close nearby was her pride and joy; a children's library.
It was chocked full of books, though one could hardly call them children's books. She had, she told him, taken most of these books from the king’s library, over in the south wing. He never visited, so she figured it was safe to do so.
S
he had books of all types. Many were history books, but she also had books about animals, plants, even books about Elves, Dwarves and other races. She had not read them all, she said, but she was working on it.
The size of her library overawed Gerald. This single room was larger than his cottage, and yet it was filled with books. Anna pulled out some of her favourites and began showing him. It was like these books were her friends. She positively lit up when she talked about each one. Her exuberance enthralled him, but soon, the long walk and warm air began to take its toll, and he nodded off. He was shaken awake by a concerned servant. Anna had become worried and had called out for help. Now a distressed Ned was leaning over him, offering a glass of water.
They got him to his feet and escorted him back to his cottage. He was tired. Anna carried his cane and saw him tucked into bed still wearing his clothes. He fell asleep as she read him one of her favourite stories.
Chapter 14
The Tutor
Autumn 956 MC
ANNA had just turned nine and winter was fast approaching. The autumn was colder than most, with a wind that seemed determined to penetrate Gerald’s coat. Once again, he was cleaning up the estate. There had been a brisk wind overnight, and branches were scattered everywhere. He was working on the line of trees at the entrance road when he became aware of someone watching him. He stopped what he was doing and turned to face a well-dressed man, of medium build, with neatly trimmed hair. The man was beardless but had thick sideburns, which he kept cut to perfection. His clothes were of good quality, but not so well made as to identify the man as a noble. He had the look of a well-to-do middle-class merchant, perhaps, or more likely, a scholar. Gerald had taken in the man’s visage for only a moment when the visitor spoke.
"You there," the man demanded, "do you work here?"
It seemed like a stupid thing to say. Did the man suppose that Gerald just decided to visit and clean up the yard? Of course, he worked here! Instead of the retort the man deserved, he just sighed and replied politely. "Yes, the name’s Gerald Matheson. I'm the groundskeeper. Is there something I can help you with?"
The man's look of disdain was apparent as he spoke. "I am here to see a Mr Hanson, whom I believe is in charge. You will take me to him at once."
Gerald instantly took a dislike to the man, but Lord Fitzwilliam had told him once that all people should be treated equally until they reveal their stupidity. He was sure it wouldn't take long for this man to carry out the task.
"Certainly. And who might I say is here?" Gerald enquired.
"William Renfrew," the man responded as if he should recognize the name.
"If you'll come this way, Mr Renfrew, I'll take you to see the steward." He dropped the sticks and began walking toward the Hall as fast as his bad leg would let him. As a sergeant, he had to deal with people with superior attitudes quite often. Usually, they were knights, but anyone with coins could turn into a person with an overblown feeling of their self-importance. He set a brisk pace, confident that the man would be hurrying after him. He felt satisfaction knowing that the man would be sweating by the time they arrived.
He led Mr Renfrew through the great hall, then turned to the north, leading him through the servant’s wing until he arrived outside of Hanson's office, officially the clerk’s room. He summoned up his best sergeant’s behaviour and rapped on the door, waiting for the thin voice of Hanson to bid him to enter. He opened the door and stepped into the doorway, stopping to block the visitor.
"I have a Mr Renfrew here, sir. Shall I bring him in?"
Hanson sat, stooped over a large ledger filled with writing, his hands stained with ink, discarded quills littering the table. Gerald had seen books like this before; they were the ledgers for the estate. When he was in the army, he had to track every expenditure and see to the payment of the troops. Baron Fitzwilliam would regularly inspect the books, but he was pretty sure that no one had ever needed to check the meticulous work of Mr Hanson.
Hanson looked up from his ledger. He sighed and put the quill down on a blotter, closing the book and clasping his hands together in front of him. "Bring him in, bring him in." As Gerald stepped aside to allow the newcomer entrance, Hanson added, "Do stay Gerald, I would have a word with you afterwards. Now, what can I do for you Mister…"
"Renfrew, William Renfrew." Once again, the man waited expectantly, as if his name would invoke some measure of respect.
Hanson looked him up and down. The old man's eyesight wasn't what it used to be, but he could still manage a harsh look if he was unnecessarily interrupted. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Mister Renfrew?"
The look of surprise was evident on Renfrew’s face. "I've come from Wincaster," he said as if that explained everything. He waited for a moment, and when it was evident that Hanson still did not understand, he continued, "I am the new Tutor to the princess. I am here to teach her how to read and write, as well as etiquette and proper behaviour."
Gerald felt offended and spoke out of turn. "The princess already knows how to read and write!"
"Really," said Renfrew, sounding offended, "and who, may I ask, carried out this task?"
"I taught her myself!" Gerald responded, perhaps a little more vehemently than he intended.
"Impossible!" the tutor replied. "We cannot have a princess of the realm instructed by a country bumpkin! I must teach her the proper ways of royalty. I am horrified at the thought."
Gerald could almost feel the man sneer in contempt. He was about to offer a retort but bit his tongue, it would do no good to antagonize him. He was here to tutor Anna, Gerald must get used to him.
"I have here a letter of introduction from the Royal Palace in Wincaster," Renfrew said, producing a folded letter with the Royal Seal holding it closed. He passed this across to Hanson, handling it as though it was made of crystal, and he was worried about breaking it.
Hanson gingerly accepted the paper, closely examining the seal. He reached into his desk drawer and withdrew a small knife, which he used to remove the wax. He carefully unfolded the paper to read its contents. The room remained silent as Hanson read. His eyes reached the end of the document, and then he seemed to study it some more. He looked back up at Mister Renfrew, locking eyes with him. "Your letter of introduction is well received Mister Renfrew but says little of your purpose here. It only references that you are here to provide your services. Would you care to elaborate?"
Renfrew seemed to warm to the challenge, becoming more animated as he talked. "I am here to train the princess in the ways of the court, sir. How to behave in civilized society, and make sure she will make a suitable bride one day."
"And how, precisely, do you expect to do that?" Hanson queried.
"I aim," the visitor continued, gaining confidence "to start with the basics. I shall ensure that she has a proper understanding of the elements of conversation and reading. I must test her comprehension, and increase her vocabulary to a state that is suitable for a royal."
"I see," Hanson stared down at the letter which was still in his grasp, "and when would you expect to start?"
"Immediately," the man announced, almost too quickly. "It is imperative that I begin as soon as possible. You must take me to the princess so that I can start assessing her!"
Hanson stared at him. Gerald could tell he was not happy with him. It would mean another name on the payroll, and Hanson already spent much of his days balancing the books.
Hanson finally broke the uncomfortable silence. "If you would be so kind as to wait outside Mister Renfrew, I just need to speak to Mister Matheson for a moment."
Renfrew seemed pleased with himself. "Of course, sir, I shall await your pleasure in the hallway." He turned and exited the room, closing the door behind him. Gerald noticed that the man had more of a spring in his step and no wonder, he had just gotten the upper hand.
Hanson indicated with his hand that Gerald should have a seat. This would be an informal meeting then, thought the groundskeeper.
Gerald tensed, was he being threatened, or was this simply the old man’s request for help?
"I would like you to introduce Mister Renfrew to Anna. I think it would soften the blow coming from you."
Gerald was going to object but saw the reasoning. He nodded in agreement.
"You may not like this…," Hanson gazed down at the paper again, "tutor, but he is here at the behest of the king, or at least someone at the Palace. Take him up to the library, and I'll have Sophie ask Anna to meet you there. Perhaps it will give Mister Renfrew some time to wipe the smug look off his face."
Gerald could sympathize. "Of course, Alistair, I'll do all I can to help."
He shook Hanson’s hand and opened the door to the hallway. Renfrew was standing outside, leaning against the far wall. He looked startled when the door opened and quickly straightened up.
"Please come with me, Mister Renfrew, I will take you to the library. The princess will join us there shortly." He led the tutor back to the great hall, taking a shortcut to pass through the dining room. They made their way up the grand staircase and then to the children’s library.
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