Wergild

by Boris L Slocum

  She breathed aloud. “Sir Everett!”

  “To start with. He is the king’s counselor and an important voice at court. He also is a tax assessor in Blenheim … who has been robbing the king and his subjects blind.”

  Another breath escaped her. “But wait. That’s only six.”

  “I know,” said the knight, now in his full martial regalia. Taking up the reins of the warhorse, he began leading it and Deirdre toward the tilting field, where the combat soon was to commence. “But tomorrow, Baron Sir Etienne de Margot arrives.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  The greeting Sir Alexis gave Isabel when he passed by was gentle and reassuring, and he made it perfectly clear that she was bound to him in no way. This combat was a matter of honor between him and Everett Dupuis. He then led the steed, with Deirdre still astride, to the mark where the knights were to meet.

  “She’s sweet on you,” said Deirdre once they were out of earshot.

  The knight, his eyes clearly visible beneath the helm’s faceplate, gave her a wink. “What’s not to love?”

  When they reached their mark, she made to scamper from the saddle. The youngster was still far from an expert rider, and she was very high off the ground. After several futile attempts to dismount, she felt herself lifted to the ground, and the knight gave her a gentle swat on the bottom to send her on her way. It wasn’t until she reached Isabel and Birdy that she realized there was a gaping smile on her face. The whole affair suddenly was feeling too much like a carnival to her, so she bit her lip and put her arms around Lady Isabel.

  “Sir Alexis is the strongest knight in Albion,” she repeated by way of excuse for her high spirits. “You have nothing to fret about. He’ll make short work of this bloke.”

  “Tuppence,” said the woman in a voice that trembled, “they say the same of Sir….” The woman cut off her words and tears again streamed from her eyes.

  Deirdre managed to comfort the woman in a convincing way, and the duel was soon commenced.

  Sir Alexis did not make a liar of her. Unlike the reverend’s duel with the mayor, the battle between the mounted knights lasted but one pass of their steeds. The men exchanged but three sword-blows each, and Sir Everett toppled from his mount, attempted to rise several times, and gripped his neck in despair. His throat had been cut cleanly through by one of the blows delivered expertly by Sir Alexis. There was a shocked silence at the abruptness and finality of the combat. Sir Alexis dismounted, knelt by the fallen knight, and whispered briefly in his ear. The fallen man soon afterward was dead.

  “The thing is decided,” cried out the old knight who had acted as marshal. “Honor has been satisfied.”

  And it was over.

  Rather than rejoice, it looked as if Lady Isabel might faint. Heavens, she was a strange woman. Deirdre pampered her and, with Birdy’s aid, took her back to their tent for a rest. When the lass emerged, Sir Alexis was stretched in the grass, his armor and arms in a neat pile where Birdy had placed them before tottering off to enjoy the festival. Sir Alexis was a liberal master.

  She flopped down in the grass beside the creature she knew to be a faux knight, but she couldn’t escape the special feeling she had around Sir Alexis. It was like he and Reverend Ainsley were different creatures entirely, even though she knew they were not. The former was … she couldn’t put her finger on it. He somehow was purer and more decent, even when it was just the two of them alone. The reverend was the consummate actor, but from time to time, even in public, his mask would slip a fraction and the real Fiend beneath would flash a grin. Not so with the mighty knight.

  “What did you whisper to Sir Everett just before he died,” she asked the knight after a comfortable silence.

  “I told him I was going to dig him up tonight and eat his innards.”

  For just a moment, Deirdre was struck dumb. “You’re teasing me,” she said at last. Maybe his mask did slip sometimes.

  “I tease not.”

  “Why … why would you do that?”

  “He was a monstrous man, Tuppence, cruel and vicious. The world is a better place without him.”

  “And the wind told you this, too?”

  “After a fashion. Sir Alexis knew him of old in the Holy Land. Dupuis was malevolent and rapacious there as well.”

  She again was speechless, but it then dawned on her Sir Alexis previously had mentioned knowing the man, and some of the words that had passed earlier that day between Sir Alexis and Dupuis had hinted at an existing familiarity. It simply wasn’t something that she’d connected at the time. “So … there is an Alexis de Vere?”

  “There was,” he replied with a nod. “He died … drowned crossing the channel about four days before you met him near Portsmouth.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “And was there a Right Reverend Moorcroft Ainsley?”

  “Oh, no. He’s a creature of pure wind.”

  “I’ll say,” she laughed. “So, when you said you were to meet cousins here, that wasn’t a lark? Sir Alexis does have cousins?”

  “Indeed, he does. And good folk, too. You’ll meet them tomorrow.”

  The knowledge that the knight had family tickled her, and it dawned on Deirdre that she too might be a bit sweet on Sir Alexis, at least the idea of him. “What was he really like?”

  He gave her a look she’d not yet seen and flicked away a few innocent blades of grass. “Do you know what it is for a person to change, Tuppence? And I mean to truly change?”

  She shook her head.

  “When Alexis de Vere was a young knight, he was the very model of everything you despise in a Gheet — cruel, selfish, quick to anger, slow to forgive … belligerent and spiteful even to those closest to him. But fifteen years ago, he went to the Holy Land, and something happened to him there. I can’t fully say what — the wind doesn’t tell me everything — but somehow, he looked inside himself and took a careful accounting of what he saw. And he made himself a better person.” The Fiend gave his head a gentle shake. “People almost never change, Tuppence. But sometimes they do.”

  “You’re not gonna be eating chitlins wearing his face, are you?” she whispered.

  “I would never.”

  “Good.” The whole idea of Sir Alexis brought a smile to her face on an otherwise complex and disorienting day. But something again dawned on her. “Wait, is that what the reverend said to Mayor Villeneuve?”

  “What? About the chitlins?”

  She nodded.

  “No, Reverend Ainsley begged the mayor’s pardon, swore there was nothing between he and Mrs. Villeneuve, and pleaded to give him last rites, to which the man consented.”

  Now the young woman was confused, even more than before. She made several incoherent noises as she tried to speak.

  The knight continued speaking. “He wasn’t a bad man, Tuppence … not like the others. There are good people in the world. You just don’t find many in government.”

  “But … you did eat his ….”

  “He wasn’t using them anymore,” the Fiend protested in a mild voice.

  “But … okay.” It took her another moment to sort her thoughts. “Okay, if he was such a great guy, why did you roger his wife? And don’t you dare say you were in the chapel speaking in tongues.”

  For just the barest moment a look of embarrassment flashed over the manly face of Sir Alexis, Fiend incognito. “Okay, I needed to do that to get the man’s attention.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Tuppence….”

  “I don’t believe you,” was her flat reply. “You had no problem getting the attention of the others upon whom you wanted to pounce….” The thought hit her like a limb crashing from a tree. “You needed him to challenge you. Why? … In the same way you needed Sir Everett to challenge you!”

  Another nigh imperceptible look flashed across the knight’s strong face, this one a look of deep surprise. It was gone in an instant. “You are very clever,” he said in the most affectionate of tones.

  Sh
e’d found out something about him, something important. “Why did they need to challenge you? Why didn’t…?” It all opened up before her as if the dawn had just broken. In all her time with him, the Fiend had not picked a single fight or cast a single first blow. He’d never goaded, he’d never challenged, and he’d never struck first. He was sweetness and probity incarnate until his victims struck the first blow. What was going on? “Baron de Margot,” she whispered.

  “What of him?”

  “You were trying to pick a fight with him at the inn that night, at the Four Quarters.”

  The knight laughed aloud, before continuing in a low voice. “And if it hadn’t been for that fat amiable dolt Armand de Bois-Guilbert, insufferable peacemaker that he is, I wouldn’t have been so hungry the next evening when I supped on Magistrate Servais.”

  “So, he is the seventh?”

  The knight nodded. “De Margot? I hoped he’d be the first, but it still works out well. I’ll have another chance tomorrow.”

  “How so?”

  “There is to be a moot, tomorrow. It wasn’t originally part of the tourney. But the nobles gather to seek peace. The wind tells me de Margot will attend. He must.”

  “And you’ll convince him to challenge you?”

  The Fiend smiled and shrugged. “Dupuis and he were close. He’ll want vengeance for that, especially since Dupuis’ death ruins schemes the two had together. De Margot is an ambitious man. Though the moot is a place of peace, he’ll dig for some reason to shame me, accuse me of all manner of sins in doing so. Ask Lady Isabel. That’s his way of picking fights, by shaming men into challenging him.”

  “But you won’t fall for that?”

  Alexis began to laugh aloud. “Of course not, Tuppence. That’s my trick. I won’t let that rascal steal it from me.”

  Deirdre needed to cover her mouth to keep from crying out in laughter. “Why?” she asked after she composed herself. “Why must your enemies cast the first blow?”

  “It’s the way of things, Tuppence — it’s sort of a loophole. I can’t explain it any other way.”

  “So,” she continued slowly, “you can’t kill someone until they strike you first?”

  “It isn’t a great impediment, child. You know better than most the Gheet are a proud and violent people … and terribly easy to provoke.” He gave a chuckle. “It’s a peculiarity of human nature, at least among the male gender, that mildness and pleas for amity often incite the greatest rage.”

  She found herself laughing again, and they continued to joke and laugh throughout the afternoon. After a while, Lady Isabel awoke and joined them, and soon after, Birdy returned. They ate and drank and laughed, the four of them, well into the evening.

  Later, as Deirdre prepared for sleep, she had time to think and ponder the odd and strange Fiend who she’d befriended — for she realized now they truly were friends. And though she had not been perfectly convinced until that afternoon that the Fiend might not yet eat her, she knew now he never would. The thought enabled her to sleep better, even if only a little better, than she had in some time.

  Pride

  “Scripture tells us that Pride is the sin of the Devil, that deep and irreparable flaw that makes Him what He is.”

  —Right Reverend Moorcroft Ainsley

  Isabel awoke to the sounds of hammers striking blows on wood — tents were being erected nearby — but soon after, the shouts of anger began. It was such a common sound in this land that she tried not to panic, but she swiftly dressed and stepped outside the tent. Beyond the flap, she found Tuppence and Birdy watching a knot of armed men riding toward the tourney’s main field. At their head was Sir Alexis de Vere.

  “What’s going on?” she asked her friend when she reached the girl’s shoulder. “Where’s Sir Alexis off to?”

  Tuppence gave one of her inscrutable looks. “A wild animal dug up and devoured Sir Everett’s body last night. His cousin, the Baron de Margot arrives even now.” The young girl put her arm around Isabel in an awkward attempt to comfort her. “There may be a fight.”

  Isabel steadied herself. That was always the way in this benighted land. It was dreadful and hateful, but there was no other choice than to trust to Sir Alexis.

  Tuppence, strong, tough, unflappable Tuppence, snatched up her hand and began to lead her in the direction the knights had ridden, before calling back, “Birdy, stay here and watch the tents.”

  It was less than a ten-minute walk, but it took some minutes more before the young women could find a place to watch among the throng. With just a bit of pushing and wiggling, they soon were within a dozen yards of Sir Alexis, who stood tall amid a group of men who had gathered in a shallow depression below. The armed men were several hundred and stood around an opening about thirty yards in diameter.

  On the far side of the circle, a commotion drew Isabel’s eye, and she looked to see Etienne de Margot step through an opening in the crowd. She felt her body shiver and her hand shift to the hilt of the dagger Tuppence had gifted her. The man’s brow was knitted, and a look of deep fury etched his face. He was a dreadful sight, but no less so than was the chortling rogue who had killed Sir Utrecht.

  “This is the moot!” heralded a deep baritone. The voice was that of a lean old knight who appeared to have mounted some sort of platform twenty or so feet distant. “All speak in peace. All speak the truth.”

  The assembled knights murmured the same words in return, and all made gestures with their hands Isabel had not seen before. Clearly, some sort of oath had been invoked. Before the old knight said a word more, Sir Alexis stepped forward and ascended the podium.

  “I would speak,” said her protector in a deep and powerful voice.

  The overall din fell, but across the way several outraged voices were raised. Baron de Margot veritably trembled with rage. “What have you to say then, de Vere?” he cried out in a voice that was thick with fury. “We are here for the moot, not your prideful arrogance! All know of your hunger for power, your lust for what’s not yours!”

  Sir Alexis appeared to ignore the man, and he again raised his voice. “By right, I would speak.”

  The din fell even more, but the crowd across the ground, that bunch nearest de Margot, continued to mutter and to give ugly looks. Baron de Margot again appeared as if he might speak before being forestalled.

  “This is a place of peace,” cried a voice that Isabel thought to be the older knight who first had spoken. “Baron de Vere has claimed his right!”

  Baron? Isabel looked over at Tuppence, who returned her look with one of equal surprise. There then was a moment’s silence upon the ground, and the voice of Alexis de Vere covered all.

  “You know me of old, Sir Emil Severance,” he said, pointing to a large bearded knight nearby.

  “Aye,” the man agreed. “I know you, Baron Alexis.”

  “And you, Sir Dewald Avery.”

  “Aye, baron. I know you.”

  Sir Alexis named a half dozen other knights, most of them older, and each acknowledged his acquaintance. The noise around Baron de Margot grew with each passing moment.

  Baron de Vere did not deign to notice them, but continued. “I was the worst of men in my youth….”

  “You’ll get no argument from Sir Everett,” sneered a voice from near de Margot.

  “The worst to my friends, the worst to my neighbors, the worst to those most beloved of me….”

  This time de Margot, in a gloating tone, spoke up himself. “My cousin who you slew and who knew you well in the Holy Land could have spoken well to that, de Vere. You were the most covetous and hungry of….”

  The voice of Alexis de Vere grew to an unnatural strength and volume. “I was all those things in my youth, Baron de Margot. I need no witness or jury. I was the worst of men. And in my absence from this fair land, my beloved cousin William, who I slandered and wronged all those years ago, a man I wronged in every way a man can wrong another, has behaved toward me better than any brother ever could ask. In
my absence, he has tended my affairs, collected my rents, spoken in my name, and fought my fights … with never once seeking thanks or recompense.” Alexis looked straight to de Margot, who again seemed about to speak. “You know well the love of a cousin, Baron de Margot. This I know.”

  The candor of Alexis de Vere’s words seemed to shock de Margot, who for that moment was struck silent.

  Sir Alexis raised a rolled parchment above his head, one that Isabel had not before noticed. “Everything I own, I own through Fleming Law, passed to me not through the crown, but through my own family right. By this charter, I hereby give everything I own of worth to my cousin Sir William de Vere, formerly Baron of Flight, now Baron of Flight and Inskeep. All of my lands, all of my titles, all of my fields, all of my flocks, all I own but my horse, armor, and arms are his, now and forever after. I swear this. Do you witness this, Sir Emil Severance?”

  “I witness it, Sir Alexis.”

  “Do you witness this, Sir Dewald Avery?”

  Sir Alexis continued his query until each of the knights he originally had named had sworn and attested they were witnesses to the grant.

  And then it appeared the thing was done, but Isabel didn’t know exactly what had transpired, save that it was a thing of import and great nobility. She looked to Tuppence, but the lass merely shrugged her shoulders, a confused look on her face that no doubt mirrored Isabel’s own.

  The moot went on, with knights stepping forward and speaking their grievances over recent events. There was a fair amount of hollering and some angry shouting, as well as many ayes and nays, but a now spellbound Isabel was focused on Sir Alexis. Something was afoot, and she knew not what. Her protector was deep in conversation with a man who could only be his cousin. The two men grasped each other firmly at the forearm and spoke in low and candid tones. After several minutes, Sir Alexis raised his eyes and met hers. A smile broke across his face, and he waved her and Tuppence toward him.