by James Bee
Slowly the crowd began to disperse, in ones and twos. There was a great deal of muttering and dark glances his way, but those Gerald could tolerate.
“Looks like they don’t want to take their chances out in the open,”Kayl said.
“Aye. They must know that their odds are better here,”Gerald replied. Letting out a great breath, he relaxed. The crisis was averted, and without any serious violence. “Kayl, I need you to guard the gate. No one can go out without a good reason. I need to…”Gerald’s words trailed off as a group of men pushed through the crowd toward him. At their head was a familiar face. The face of someone Gerald didn’t have time to deal with right now.
“Let us through, bastard,”Wylliam Banesfort said, hands on his hip. Also on his hip was a sword, as well as an excessive number of knives. Behind him stood around twenty men, all of whom were similarly armed. Immediately the townsfolk stopped drifting away, rooted to the spot with the promise of a spectacle.
“Why?”Gerald asked, frustration coursing through him. The mob had been pacified! The danger was over! Now this petulant, arrogant, prick of a nobleman was going to thrust him back into the fire!
“To go out and bring the savages to heel! Clearly you have no stomach for fighting, so we shall do it for you. We welcome any who would come with us!”Wylliam’s words were passed on and whispered throughout the crowd. Shouts of encouragement and support rose sporadically from the masses.
“With twenty men you would do this? You’re a fool, Lord Banesfort. You would be leading these men to their deaths!”Kayl yelled down. The outbursts from the crowd died, snuffed out by the knight’s words. Gerald they could dismiss, heap insults and ridicule upon. Kayl, however, was untouchable. An unassailable beacon of the king’s authority and power. Gerald didn't doubt that his soldiers had already been spreading the tales of the big man’s exploits over ale in the taverns.
“It is not Lord Banesfort that leads them. It is I!”Ashtin Fletcher stepped out from behind two men. With a chipped shield and long blade strapped over battle-scarred mail, he looked as though he knew his business. A cheer, louder now, sprang up from the crowd. Clearly, Fletcher held a place of high regard in the town. One that Gerald had been completely unaware of. No doubt any attempts to discredit the man would end poorly for him.
“As a seasoned warrior, you must know that only death awaits you beyond these walls. Your force is no match against those that are coming,”Gerald said. Confusion tingled at him. He knew he was missing something. Wylliam might be foolish enough to brave the trees, but a man didn't get as old as Fletcher without having some sense about him.
“These are our woods. The savages do not know them. We will strike from the darkness and disappear like wolves. Let us though,”Fletcher replied calmly. Gerald was almost tempted to grant their request, if only to get them out of the town. He would not mourn their deaths.
Yet he could not. If they left, then others would want to follow, and he would not be able to stop them. He had to keep them united, working together. Every man and woman that died in the woods would be another one that could have been used to defend Redstone’s flimsy walls. He simply could not spare another person.
“I cannot. The gates are sealed for the protection of all those within. Your bravery is commendable, but I will not allow you to waste your lives.”Trepidation began to grow in Gerald as he saw the effect of his words on the would-be war party. With narrowed eyes, they edged forward, hands slowly drifting toward weapons. With a sudden clarity, Gerald understood.
“Then accompany us! Such a brave and skilled soldier such as yourself should prove more than a match for these northern dogs!”Fletcher yelled back at him. Too late, Gerald saw the trap he was in. He couldn’t refuse, not without looking like a coward in front of the whole town. Yet he could not leave the town unprotected to go on a fool’s mission. He was trapped between two impossible choices. He needed a third option, one that would work in his benefit.
“How strange that I do not see men of the garrison with you? Why does Blane not stand beside you, if this course of action is truly wise? Is he not the most experienced warrior in Redstone?”Gerald asked. He didn’t enjoy throwing Blane onto the fire, but he had little choice. Besides, if Blane took the garrison with him, the town would be squarely under Gerald’s control. Of course, they would also have half the men. Teeth gritted, Gerald cursed the two men in front of him. They were threatening the safety of the town, for what? To appease their own egos? To force him to stop them and in so doing look scared? Or did they truly believe they could triumph against the Sanish?
“I have not seen Lord Beesbury, but I’m sure that if he were here, he would support our cause!”Wylliam said shrilly. The young man’s hand was wrapped around the hilt of his sword. Gerald almost hoped that he would draw it so he could have an excuse to cut the fool down.
“I am here.”Blane stepped out the crowd, dressed for combat. He shot a curious look at Gerald before continuing. “Though I hate to say it, Sir Gerald is right. Fighting the northerners outside of these walls is a fool’s notion. Their warriors have tree sap running through their veins. To fight them in the woods would be suicide. We must fortify our position here and defend it with all our might. Only then will we survive! The garrison will keep you safe, AS IT HAS ALWAYS DONE!”The grizzled soldier drew his sword and raised it above his head. All around him, militiamen did the same. A cheer, louder than the rest, went up in the crowd. To Gerald’s surprise, Fletcher and Wylliam took up the cheer as well.
“You are too persuasive for us, my lord. If you say that we should stay, then we shall stay. You’ve kept us safe for many years, and I don’t doubt you will lead us through this safely as well! LORD BEESBURY!”Wylliam raised his fist, and the crowd began chanting the name, over and over.
Gerald’s stomach sank. He’d been set up, willingly tied the noose around his own neck. The town now looked toward Blane for protection and leadership, not him. He had been made to look a coward while Blane reaped the praise. If he was truly supposed to control the town, he had just been dealt a devastating blow.
“What just happened?”Kayl asked, bewilderment clear in his voice.
“It was all a farce. I’ve been tricked.”
17
Chapter 17
Hunched over the desk, Gerald crumpled up the parchment and threw it into the fire. He’d been struggling for the better part of an hour. Half a dozen times he’d started, only to throw away his work in frustration. Stretching his neck, he longed to get up. Yet he knew that he had to make haste. It may already be too late to send out a messenger. He had to try, anyway, to let the Crown know that it was being attacked, that a tribe had raised their blades in defiance. Yet despite all this, he struggled to write the letter. The letter that would go to his mother.
Should he keep it sparse? The queen had little time for dallying and long-windedness. Yet perhaps more detail would be expected so that the best possible decision could be made. Uncertainly clawed at Gerald’s insides. Would she be disappointed in his lack of progress? His inability to control the town? Should he include what he knew about Banesfort? The ritual in the forest? The mutilated body? Would she simply think him a fool, or worse, an immature child?
A knocking at the door interrupted his agonizing. The door cracked open and Felicia’s head popped through. “A visitor for you, my lord.”At his nod, she withdrew. Frowning, Gerald prepared himself for his surprise visitor. He’d insisted that Felicia call him by his name, without the “lord” nonsense. That she fell back to formality meant that his guest was someone who would not suffer such familiarity.
Gerald’s dark mood turned to ash as Wylliam Banesfort and Fletcher strode through the door. The young lord carried a smug look with him. A face that at the best of times was in dire need of a fist.
“Thank you for seeing us. I understand you must be very busy,”Wylliam said, sitting down in a chair in front of Gerald at the table. Puzzlingly, Fletcher took one of the armchairs by the fire, o
ne that faced away from them.
“As you say, I am quite busy. What is your business?”Gerald said, unable and unwilling to keep the hostility from his voice. Wylliam’s smile didn’t so much as flicker.
“Concern compelled me here today. Concern for the future and well-being of Redstone, my father’s town.”the young man answered.
“And what exactly is concerning you, my lord?”Gerald clenched his teeth in frustration.
“Namely, the members of the council of lords.”
“I feel I was very specific on this matter the last time we spoke. The Crown has deemed that you are not…”
Wylliam held up his hand to stop Gerald. “You really mustn’t assume, my lord. It does tend to make an ass out of oneself. I was not referring to myself. I was speaking of Fletcher. He has been an invaluable friend and advisor to my family and the town. The people of Redstone would feel much safer knowing he is helping guide them in such times.”Looking into Wylliam’s smug face, Gerald knew that he was trapped again, outmanoeuvred before he even knew that he was in danger.
“I…”
“He was once an outsider too, like you. Having him beside you would do much to make people trust you. After what happened today, you can use all the help you can get.”
“Beside me?”Gerald sputtered. He felt like a trapped animal whose leg was caught in a snare.
“Of course, to keep you safe. There are some who would do you harm. It would be unfortunate if you were to have an accident.”
“I don’t need a…”
“Of course you do.”Wylliam talked over him. “If you are to lead, you must have the trappings of such power. You could not look for a better bodyguard then Fletcher. Nor would you lack for a good advice. The townsfolk would certainly feel better seeing him by your side. How could you possibly object to such an offer?”
“I …don’t suppose that I can.”Shit.
“Perfect. Now, I won’t take up any more of your time. Good day to you.”Wylliam rose and left the room, leaving Gerald in a stunned silence. He’d drastically overestimated the young nobleman. Or someone was pulling his strings, and Wylliam was only a pompous puppet. Either way, Gerald had been outfoxed again. Though for what purpose was Fletcher here? To spy on him? To assassinate him?
“Fletcher?”The man turned toward him, his face a blank mask.
“Yes?”
“Why are you here?”Sometimes bluntness obtained answers that subtleness could not.
“To guard you and provide counsel.” And sometimes it doesn’t. Gerald sighed.
“Well, I don’t require counsel right now, and I don’t think my life is in any immediate danger. You are free to leave,”Gerald said, making a show of turning back to his painful writing.
“If you say so. I’ll be in the tavern next door.”Fletcher got up and began to walk out of the room.
“Actually, wait.”Fletcher turned around, a flicker of annoyance cracking his mask.
“Yes?”he asked with icy politeness. Gerald hesitated, unsure how far he could trust the man. He needed information, knowledge that he couldn’t obtain. Not with his reputation amongst the locals. Someone like Fletcher, though, could an invaluable asset. A man that people would talk to. Besides it would allow him to gauge if the man was really there to help him, as unlikely as that seemed.
“I wonder if you might look into something for me,”Gerald said. Fletcher walked back and sat down.
“I am at your service.”
“Right. Well, I need you to investigate the …activities that have been occurring lately,”Gerald said, the older man’s constant eye contact starting to unnerve him.
“Alleged activity,”Fletcher said, completely deadpan.
“Alleged?”
“You’re alleging it. Unless you have proof?”
“Well. No. Not yet.”
“Then it’s alleged activity,”Fletcher said. Gerald had a feeling the man was mocking him, but he couldn’t figure out how.
“Yes … indeed. Well, alleged activity then. Anyway, I need you to investigate for me, to find proof,”Gerald said.
“How exactly? The town is sealed, is it not? Unless you think the people you think you saw are here in Redstone,”Fletcher said. Gerald fought down his annoyance; he was asking for the man’s help, after all.
“The gates will open tomorrow. I can’t keep people here against their will.”
“You did keep people here against their will,”Fletcher replied flatly.
“No, I contained a frenzied mob. There’s a difference,”Gerald said. He thought he saw a ghost of a smile flash across the grizzled man’s face.
“As you say. Either way, some guidance is needed. I don’t much fancy tromping through the woods in a time like this,”Fletcher said. Gerald didn’t blame the man. Earlier, he’d walked the perimeter of the town, looking for weakness and places that might be attacked. Instead, his eyes had been irresistibly drawn to the surrounding forest. When he’d first arrived, Gerald had taken only a passing notice of how thick the growth was. Now it seemed as though eyes stared out at him from behind every branch. Despite his scout’s assurances that there had been no sightings, he'd hurried back inside the town’s walls.
“Aye, and I’m not asking you to. I want you to ask around town, looking for any suspicious behaviour. Strange symbols being painted, grave-robbing, that sort of thing,”Gerald said.
Fletcher sat back in his chair, rubbing his chin.“I will. Though I doubt it’ll find much out."
“You have my thanks then. Please keep me updated on your progress,”Gerald said dismissively. With a curt nod, Fletcher left the room, abandoning Gerald to his task. Which he finished after great effort.
Seeing the words on parchment served only to further his despair. How could he hope to persevere in a situation such as this? What could he do but fail? Fail and bring further shame and dishonour to the name of his father.
Sitting back in his chair, he read over the letter one last time:
Enclosed is a report on the situation in the town of Redstone.
We arrived in good time with no trouble along the road. Once in Redstone, an investigation into the death of former Mayor Lord Banefort began. Lord Banefort was found slumped in his study, with no obvious wounds or signs of struggle. He was known to be in poor health, although the lord’s family does not believe his death was natural. I have found nothing to suggest that there is any truth to this claim.
Unfortunately, there is more distressing news to report. I have received reports that there are a large number of Sanish tribesmen on the march toward Redstone. What their intentions are is not clear, but they are expected to be hostile. Possibly connected to this are a series of strange activities going on inside and outside the walls. Father Lucan believes that they are similar to northern religious rituals. Investigation into these actives is ongoing, and I believe that we will have so answers soon. Overall, the situation is dire, with panic rampant in the town. Despite this, myself and the king’s forces are determined to do whatever we can to protect the town and the Crown’s interests.
Your Servant, Sir Gerald
Gerald read it over twice before folding and placing it inside an envelope. He had little idea if it was adequate or proper. How does one start such a letter? Dear Mother, we’re fucked. Thanks for sending me up into the arse crack of the kingdom.Not that he would ever refer to her and his mother. She was the queen, and there was no room for anything else.
As he sealed the envelope, Gerald wondered what his mother would think when she read it. Relief that he might soon be gone? Her greatest shame, killed in a northern town? Would she worry for him? Fear for his life? If it was Prince Rauf in his stead, he knew she would be in a panic. Half the realm’s soldiers would be marching on Redstone. Perhaps she would be indifferent, only annoyed that the destruction of the town might interrupt the steady supply of steel.
With a shake of his head, Gerald put the thoughts from his mind. He’d dwelt on her notions of him for most of his
life. There were more pressing matters to attend to. Likehow to stop a bloodthirsty army from slaughtering everyone under my protection.
18
Chapter 18
“What do you mean, they’re building walls?”Gerald asked, leaping out of his chair.
“You’re familiar with walls, right? Those big tall wooden things? They’re building them around the mine,”Orland replied.
“Bastards! I told them that we fortify the town first! Progress has been slow enough as it is! What good is the mine if everyone else is dead?”Gerald exploded, grabbing his sword and running out the door.
Outside of the council building, Kayl and Blane waited with two dozen soldiers. Their expressions resembled his own.
“Figured you’d want to head over there as soon as you heard,”Kayl said.
“Fucking goldmonger! There’s no end to his pigheadedness. He’d see the whole town dead if it meant a little more money in his pocket!”Blane said, spitting viciously on the ground. Gerald didn’t doubt the claim. He’d ordered all unnecessary activity outside the town stopped until they could assess the risks. Rolan had nearly burst his heart when Gerald had suggested to him that the mining activity should stop. Instead he’d hired every available man who could wield a blade to guard the miners while they worked, pulling even more hands away from the effort of strengthening the town’s defences.
“You thought right. We’re going out there, and we’ll drag Rolan out by his ear if we have to. This is treason! Protecting rocks when there are lives at risk!”Gerald replied. Gesturing for them to follow, he began to walk down the street. Kayl, Orland, and Blane fell in beside him with Fletcher not far behind. The man had been a second shadow lately, constantly watching him. So far he hadn’t given Gerald any reason to dismiss him, as much as he would have liked to. In fact, he’d been almost helpful.