by Lynn Lorenz
“Bounties?” Not many did that. “What proof does he require?”
“Hands.” Jackson spat out the word. “The bastard takes hands.”
“Gods’ tears,” I swore and ran my hand through my hair. “Prisoners? Ransoms?”
“Few prisoners, from what I’ve seen, and most are missing a hand. We pay what ransom we can, but…” He shrugged. I knew what that meant.
If you were important the ransom was paid. If you weren’t and your family couldn’t raise the coin, you were left. What happened to those not ransomed was up to the ones who held them. Slaves weren’t uncommon; conscription in the ranks of the soldiers less so. If you had a skill, you might be kept alive, but it took food and water to keep a worthless prisoner even barely alive and every resource was often needed elsewhere, so few languished in cells. Death was a more common fate.
“So, instead of holding them safe, his men cut off the hands of prisoners, not just the dead, in order to collect extra pay.”
“Instills a fear that’s hard to fight, Drake.” His hands clenched and his knuckles went white.
I blew out my breath. Duke Weathers was ruthless, no doubt. He meant to win.
“These are not men of honor, Jackson.” How do you keep your honor when you have to fight against something like this?
“No, they are not honorable fighters. I’ve been bleeding men faster than I can hire them and get them trained.”
“No wonder.” I crossed my arms and sent my mind wandering.
“What do you think?” Jackson looked at me; his eyes held hope. I wasn’t sure I had any to give just now.
“That we had better not let any of our men become prisoners. How we accomplish that, I have no idea.”
Jackson stood. “Let’s go. Time to meet His Grace.”
I came to my feet and we left the room. Joss and Brute trailed us down the hall.
What had I let myself get into?
Damn. Hands for bounties? Perhaps Duke Weathers was the devil himself.
For what he was doing, I prayed he’d burn in hell.
Chapter Ten
“Where’s His Grace?” Jackson had stopped one of the servants at the bottom of the stairs.
“Outside, m’lord.” He scurried off to the kitchens.
We left the castle and stepped into the courtyard. Jackson scanned the open area, then shook his head. “He meant outside the keep’s walls. How many times have I told Logan not to go out without taking guards with him?” he growled.
Past the gates lay the road to the town, and wide fields on either side. In the near distance, the woods stood, and beyond them, the silver band of a river winked in the sun.
In the middle of the field stood a man, bent over, as he spoke to a child.
“Logan!” Jackson called.
The man straightened, waved, and turned back to the boy. The child shook his head, long blond hair flying with the motion, then bolted, loping off through the tall grasses.
The man chased him. I could hear the child’s high-pitched squeals of delight, and the man’s deep laugh as they galloped around the field. He could have easily caught the child, but let the boy escape him, yet all the while herding the lad toward us.
The boy stopped and turned to look back and the man fell with a cry, his arms outflung, to disappear in the grass. I started forward, my hand on the hilt of my short sword, but Jackson took my arm to hold me back.
“Wait, Drake.” He shook his head, a smile on his face.
The boy raced to the man, stopped, then fell down in the same manner as the man had. Laughter and a loud squeal rose from shaking stalks of the fall grasses. At last, the man stood, swung the boy onto his shoulders, and headed our way.
“Logan, I’ve told you a dozen times not to go out without a guard,” Jackson called out. He sounded like an old woman clucking over her children.
Salvation walked toward me, and my breath froze in my chest. His eyes were the soft moss that grows on the north side of an oak, and his long blond hair was pulled back in a queue. He had long, muscled legs, was lean of body, broad-shouldered, and had a smile that lit his face.
Turning to Jackson, my eyes narrowed as I glared at his grin. If it was the last thing I ever did, I was going to kill him for bringing me here. I wasn’t ready; I couldn’t go through this again.
“Logan, Duke of Marden, this is Drake.” Jackson tilted his head in my direction.
“Drake, well met. I’ve heard much of you and your skills.” Logan put out his arm and I took it. His grasp was firm and solid; the heat from his skin seared mine in the flash of that touch. Then he released me, and I dropped my arm to my side.
His green eyes held all my attention, as I memorized their exact color and the way the skin at their corners crinkled as he smiled at me.
Damn.
I cleared my throat and prayed my voice came out sounding normal. “I hope I can be of some service to you.” It did, to my relief.
“I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Now, Tomas, down you go.” He swung the boy down and tucked him under his arm, like a sack of potatoes.
The child, no more than six, giggled, his hair hanging down. “Da, put me down.”
“Down, you say?” Logan winked at me. Like an idiot I winked back, caught up in his smile as if I had been privy to their game. He let the boy slip through his large hands, but caught his ankles and dangled him just above the ground.
“Da! Don’t drop me!” Tomas squealed.
“Of course not. Your head is too hard for the poor ground.” He swung the boy up, caught him, and lowered his feet gently to the ground. “Now, run along and see what Cook has for the evening meal.” He gave the boy’s bottom a pat of encouragement as he raced off. Turning back to me, he shook his head. “My son, Tomas.”
“My lord duke…” Jackson began to lecture, but Logan held up a hand to stop him.
“The child has been cooped up all day, Jackson. He needed to run. The guards at the walls can see us. Besides, we were having a lesson. I was teaching him about grasshoppers.”
I almost asked him what the lesson was, but stopped. What did I care to learn about grasshoppers? For that matter, what did I care if his eyes crinkled as they smiled at me, or that his hair was the color of winter wheat?
We walked back to the keep’s gates. Logan and I were about the same height, but he was not as heavily built as I. Jackson towered over both of us. All of us went armed; Jackson and I carried more weapons than Logan did, but that wasn’t unusual. The duke would not be expected to fight at a moment’s notice, but I could tell from the way he moved that his sword was not a decoration or worn for fashion’s sake.
“Now, I trust Jackson’s filled you in on our problem.” His eyes turned serious as he led the way inside and to a table by the hearth.
We sat, he at the head, Jackson on his right and I on his left. At the wave of his hand, a servant appeared with short cups and a jug of ale. Logan poured the ale and slid the cups to each of us, picked his up, and drank.
Jackson and I cooled our throats, then I answered, “He has, Your Grace. It’s a problem, I’ll grant you, but one I’m sure we can find a solution to.”
“Call me Logan.” He took a drink of his ale. “Weathers is a danger to everyone in these parts. I’ve stood against him for years, as did my father, but with these damned bounties of his, I haven’t got enough men to hold him back much longer.” He shook his head.
“He sends raiding parties into our far territory, also,” Jackson added. “He comes across the river, hits, then retreats back. There is too long a time between finding out about the attacks and getting a troop there to catch them.”
“I’m familiar with the tactic. He exerts little to no energy, while you must spend time and men to travel the distance. Have you thought of establishing outposts, Logan?” My mind worked at the problem. “If our men were nearer, we’d stand a better chance of catching the raiders before they crossed back over the river.”
“I agree. A good id
ea. Find out what it would take to make it so, Drake.”
“We haven’t got a lot of men to spare, Logan,” Jackson warned.
“Perhaps we could hire some of the local men. Send someone there to train them, or send them here to train, then place them in small groups every twenty or so miles apart. I’d have to see a map, mark where they were crossing and the distances.” I shrugged.
“I have the very ones.” Logan jumped up and took the stairs to the upper floor two at a time, leaving us looking at each other.
“Does he do that all the time?” I asked.
“Aye. He’s a man of action and stands on no pretense, Drake. You’ll get along well with him.” He grinned. “He hates being called by his title, also.”
Logan returned, carrying several rolls of parchment under his arm. He spread them out on the table and weighted the corners down with our cups.
“Here and here. This is our border with Weathers’ land.” He pointed to a line that followed a river as he leaned over the table. I caught his scent, mixed with the fall grasses from the field, and felt a familiar and unwelcome tug in my loins.
“Is that the same river beyond the woods outside the castle?” I asked, tracing the line with my finger.
“Aye, but this is where it ends. It empties into the lake beyond. This border is sixty miles away, in good weather a two-day ride.” Logan tapped the map with his finger.
“Can the river be crossed anywhere along its banks?” I asked.
“No, there are only a few fords, and no bridges.”
“We could place the outposts at those locations and stop them before they make it across. Perhaps the posts themselves will be enough deterrent. Then, if we established riders to carry messages from there to here, we’d have faster communications. We’d only need a few small stables, some fast horses, and a local boy or two to mind them.” I pointed to a few places along the road.
“It wouldn’t cost much, Logan,” Jackson said.
“All good ideas.” He nodded. “You’ve picked the right man, Jackson.”
“Do you mind if I borrow these? I’d like to learn the land.” I raised an eyebrow at Logan.
He crinkled his eyes at me again, and my cock jerked. No, I’d sworn I didn’t want to feel this again. I had been content not to feel anything but despair for a long while, and it had become comfortable, like an old blanket worn soft over time.
Besides, he was married with a son. And I was…well, I was scarred. There had been only one man who’d found my countenance handsome, and he was dead. I did not intend to pine over some man I’d never have.
“Not at all. Return the maps when you’re done with them.” He picked up his cup and downed the drink. “I have to see to some matters. Until tonight.” He gave us a nod and left.
“Well, what do you think?” Jackson looked at me then took a drink of his ale.
“I think that you think I’m a fool.”
“You are many things, Drake, but not a fool. I leave in two days.” He grinned at me, slapped the table and walked away, leaving me with the maps and unable to stand without embarrassing myself in front of the servants.
I stayed seated until my breeches became comfortable, then gathered the maps, and headed up to my room.
•●•
Logan did not appear at the evening’s meal.
“He’s probably having his meal in his rooms,” Jackson offered. He must have read the disappointment I tried to hide as I pushed my food around my plate.
“No doubt.” With his wife, I thought. As it should be. Be glad, I told myself. I didn’t know what Jackson was up to, but if he’d meant to bring me here to torture me, his plan had worked.
We finished our meal and I sent Joss and Brute upstairs. I followed Jackson out to the courtyard. The stars filled the night sky and the moon was at half stage. Climbing the ramparts of the castle, we toured the catwalk that ran around the walls. The men on duty snapped to attention as we passed, and Jackson greeted each of them as he introduced me.
From the corner turrets, we could see the land that surrounded the castle on all sides. The large fields that lay at its base made it impossible for any attacks by stealth; any army approaching would be spotted with plenty of time to sound the alarm.
We moved on to the barracks to meet the men there.
Peter sat on his cot polishing his boots. As captain, his was the first one from the door.
“Drake! Good to see you.” He took over the tour from Jackson. “Here, meet the men.”
He had them stand at their cots as we walked the line. The men ranged in age from eager young men of ten and eight to older, experienced men in their thirties. I saw only a few men past forty, but I could tell they were well-seasoned.
The four barracks buildings were long and narrow, and each housed fifty men and their captain. We could house two hundred men, but I counted only a little over one hundred and twenty, counting the guards on duty. One barrack was completely empty.
We were down by close to seventy-five men. It could mean the difference between standing against Weathers and falling to him. It was plain to see that recruitment would be one of the first problems I’d have to work on.
Next, we headed to the stables. Only some two dozen of the horses were kept in stalls. These were likely the masters’ and captains’ animals, Logan’s personal mounts, and a dozen or so of the more valuable steeds. In one stall, there was a little dappled gray pony. No doubt it belonged to Tomas. The rest of the horses were either kept in nearby pens or grazed in the fields outside the castle. The master of horses was not there, but Jackson assured me I’d meet him later.
Marden’s livery was in excellent shape, and the grooms that ran the place were a lively and well-trained group. I passed Horse as he chewed his grains and swished his tail to flick flies from his back. His tack had been polished and oiled, and his coat was now a glossy deep red.
At last, we returned to the keep and trudged up to our rooms. Joss and Brute waited like sleepy bookends on either side of my door. Next time, I should tell the boy he could go in and wait for me.
“Sleep well, Drake.” Jackson opened his door and stepped inside.
“You, too.” I opened my door and Brute entered. Joss hung back, unsure of what to do. I was unsure also. Did he sleep in my room, on the floor in the hall, or somewhere else?
“Good night, Joss.” I tried to dismiss him.
“Night, m’lord.” He stood waiting.
I put my hands on my hips. “Where do you sleep, boy?”
“I’m not sure, m’lord. I’ve never worked upstairs before.”
“Where did you work?”
“The kitchens, m’lord.”
“Well, where did you sleep there?”
“Next to the ovens, if I could get a spot.” He looked toward the stairs and twisted his fingers in his hand. “There won’t be a warm place for me this late, m’lord.”
Well, I couldn’t send him back down there to sleep on the cold kitchen floor. With a sigh, I opened the door. “Come inside. I’ll find someplace for you.” He ducked under my arm and stood in the center of the room. I turned up the lantern to light the room as I looked around. The bed was big enough for two, but having Joss share my bed was not to be done. Instead, I strode to the bed and removed the quilt.
“Here, take the top quilt. Tomorrow, I’ll arrange something else for you.”
“Thank you, m’lord.” He took the blanket and curled up in it on the floor next to the wall, and managed to look happy about the accommodations.
I undressed and crawled into the bed. The thick pallet was soft enough; the bed’s ropes creaked beneath my weight, then settled. I pulled the lighter blanket over me, dimmed the lantern, and rolled onto my side.
I spent most of the night trying not to think of Logan’s green eyes.
•●•
I sat at the table to break fast with Jackson. We were served bowls of hot, cooked grain, sweetened with honey and goat’s milk. Joss took his in
the kitchen, and Brute lay by the hearth, chewing the last scraps of meat off a bone.
“I received a summons.” Jackson smiled, making his fierce expression somehow fiercer.
“A personal request, then.” I took a spoonful of porridge, expecting the usual bland, tasteless gruel. Instead, it was sweet and hearty and tasted of nuts.
“My father wishes to see me.” Jackson frowned and met my gaze.
“I thought he didn’t recognize you as his son.”
“He didn’t. This is the first time he’s ever contacted me.”
“Do you know what he wants?”
He stared into the distance. “No, but he says he needs my help. As Duke of Baymore, he’s never called me to his service, never named me his own son. I left a free man and gave my oath to Logan years ago.”
“Do you think he means to recognize you as his son at last?”
“No. I am the eldest son, even though a bastard. His heir is my half-brother and will hold his lands, not me.”
“What does Logan say?”
“He will let me choose to stay or go, after I speak to my father.”
“I can understand your desire to go. Having your father’s name means much.”
“To some, it might, if only to claim their nobility. I have no need for titles, or lands. If he hadn’t asked for my help, I would never have left this place.” He looked to me, eyes intent. “Drake, you are the only man I trust with the duke, his son, and Marden. It’s been home to me for most of my life. I served Logan’s father, Edmund, and now him, and I won’t see them come to harm, or allow these lands be conquered.”
I nodded.
“Logan needs you.” He reached across the table and grasped my arm. “Will you keep him and Tomas safe?” His eyes bored into mine.
“I give you my oath, old friend.” I placed my hand over his. “On your journey, keep yourself safe, Jackson, but in Baymore, keep yourself safer.”