“We don’t know,” the same woman replied, giving the holy warrior a curtsy.
“You’re supposed to bow to the Fist and curtsy to the baron’s daughter,” Godfrey began, getting a frown from both women in his group.
Helvie ignored the commander. “Where are the Hamills?”
“They live a league distant, west of here,” the woman said, trying to curtsy this time for the noble woman.
“Who’s in charge here?” Lucina asked, looking over the group of townspeople who were dressed plainly enough, no one looking particularly extravagant.
“That would be me,” an elderly man said, approaching from a few dozen feet away in the direction of the small town.
“Your name?” Lucina asked as the man closed on the group, accompanied by two other men brandishing a knife and an axe.
The old man nodded. “I am Mayor Fergus, and this is my son, Fauke, and our magistrate, Clive. You two must be the baron’s daughter, Helvie Vulcrest, and her courtesan, Fist Lucina Dimars.”
“I am no courtesan,” Lucina said, her voice stern. “I am the protector of Astor and defender of Vulcrest and its nobles. I serve the lady and the Mother.”
“Yes, don’t we all,” the mayor said somewhat sarcastically, giving the impression that the titles and pomp of the realm’s nobles, rulers, and leaders were less than desired out here amongst the simple folk. “No need to take offense, Fist Lucina. It’s just that we’ve heard this all before a dozen times.”
“I should have you taken in front of the baron for talk like that,” Godrey said, turning his mount to face the man as he arrived with his companions.
“Go ahead, Baron Vulgrin was the one who appointed me,” Fergus said, standing now with his arms crossed, taking in the scene. “Mother of Agon, help us,” he said, making the sign of warding at the bull and its remains.
“Agon is the Mother,” Lucina corrected the man.
“Well, even mothers have to have their own mothers, wouldn’t you agree?” Fergus asked.
“Blasphemy,” Lucina said, her hand reaching for her sword.
Fergus nodded in agreement. “That’s what the last Fist of Astor told me as well.”
Sensing that the situation was getting tenser than she would have liked, Helvie interjected to get the attention of her bodyguard and the local mayor. “I do not recall my father appointing you to office.”
“Of course you don’t. It wasn’t your father,” Fergus said matter-of-factly.
“But, you said—” Helvie started.
“No,” Fergus interrupted, “I said Baron Vulgrin appointed me. I didn’t say which Vulgrin.”
“Go on, enough of your games, Mayor Fergus. Which Vulgrin appointed you?” Lucina said, tiring of the man’s antics and finding an unlikely ally in Commander Godfrey, as the leader nodded.
“Your grandfather did,” Fergus said, addressing Helvie.
“He passed a long time ago,” Helvie said. “That would make you . . .”
“Very old. I know, it’s hard to grasp. Nevertheless, your grandfather and I played together as children when he visited our village.”
“Impossible,” Godfrey said, doing the mental calculations. “That would make you over a century old.”
“Correct,” Fergus said, nodding.
The soldiers exchanged looks, indicating that the local mayor may be senile if not flat out crazy. It was left to Helvie to soothe the situation and to focus their conversation where it needed to be at the moment. “Please, Mayor Fergus, tell us what happened here.”
“I don’t know,” Fergus said, looking at his fellow townsfolk. “I just got here. Magistrate Clive, have you any information with regards to the mauling here?”
Clive looked sideways at Fergus, not accustomed to being addressed by his title, and Fergus made a gesture with his head that was more than overt toward the baron’s troops. “Ah, right, Mayor Fergus,” he said, returning the formal gesture for the benefit of the nobles, and at least half of them rolled their eyes but kept silent. “I investigated, and we determined the bull belonged to the Hamills. Once determined, I came to fetch you . . . Ah, I mean I notified Your Highness immediately so you could verify my findings per village protocol.”
“Highness?” Godfrey asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Did he just say protocol?” Lucina asked, turning to look at Helvie and Godfrey.
“A simple oversight,” Fergus interjected. “Official will do for now, Magistrate Clive, and by protocol, the good man meant by the law.”
“I know what protocol means,” Lucina said.
“Of course you do. I was explaining for your troops,” Fergus said.
“The troops?” Godfrey said, his voice pitch going high, and obviously he was agitated now.
“I meant my own townspeople,” Fergus corrected, knowing that he said what he meant, but he had tired of the pompous nobles.
Helvie seemed to understand. “Fergus, do you mind if we go to the Hamills’ homestead and ask the master of the house if he knows what happened to his animal?”
The simply dropping of the mayor’s title was enough to gain the man’s respect, if not trust. He had to obey as a subject of her father, but she understood that willful compliance was always better than wayless obedience.
“I don’t see why not. Clive, do you think we are done here?” Fergus asked.
“Yes, Fergy,” Clive said, now dropping all pretenses and acting normally. “We can ready my horses and be there in half an hour.”
“Do you wish to go first and we’ll join you?” Fergus asked, looking to Helvie again.
“It’s all right,” Helvie said. “We can wait for you and Clive to join us. Will you bring anyone else?”
“Just my boy, Fauke.” Fergus nodded to his son, who had the axe. “He’s learning the ropes, so to speak, in case I pass on and the good baron calls for a new leader for Blackwell.”
Blackwell was the name of the town, and the townsfolk nodded in approval and agreement with their leader. It appeared that the Fergus family was popular with the commoners. “We’ll wait for you here,” Helvie said, nodding as the man returned the gesture, turning to return to the village while the townsfolk continued their gossip.
“Do you really want to look into this, my lady?” Lucina asked, watching the men leave. “Wouldn’t it be better to let the local authorities handle it?”
Helvie smiled, repressing a laugh. “So now the sassy town official is a local authority. Is that how you intend to manipulate me?”
“Of course not, my lady. It’s just that this appears to be a simple matter, and you intended to perform your hunt and then return before nightfall,” Lucina said, turning to look at her ward now that the men were a good distance off.
“The Fist is right,” Godfrey chimed in. “Better to let the local magistrate deal with this, and you should enjoy your day. If you’re successful, the buck could be pleasing your father this very evening.”
Helvie craned her neck to watch the town officials as they fetched their horses. “So strange that I haven’t heard of this Fergus fellow before today.”
“My lady,” Godfrey started to explain, treating her as he had done for the last two decades, namely as a child, “your father’s lands are dotted with at least three dozen towns, villages, and settlements. It is to be expected that you would not know every inhabitant of your father’s vast realm.”
Helvie watched the men disappear, and then turned her attention to the doting commander, who was also assigned to her protection. “It’s a barony, Godfrey, and I don’t think even my father thinks of it as vast. Certainly nothing compared to the duchy of Ulatha or the kingdom of Tyniria.”
“The point I was trying to make, my lady, is that there are many officials in your father’s service, and this one just so happens to represent a small settlement that lies far from our capital,” Godfrey said.
“I know,” Helvie responded. “We had to rise well before dawn and ride hard to get out here.”
&nb
sp; “That’s putting it mildly,” Lucina complained, not happy about getting up when most of the local inns and taverns had yet to close for the night.
The group understood that there was no longer any easy hunting within a half day’s ride of the capital, Vulkor. They had to ride hard and long to have a chance at a good buck this day, and the idea of catching something and returning with it before sundown was little to none. Both Godfrey and Lucina were simply worried that they would have to stay outside the castle this evening, and they always equated that with extra risk, especially in times like this.
Normally, Godfrey would take a half-dozen riders for a simple gallop near her home, but coming way out here near the frontier, he insisted on taking over three times that many. Of course, Lucina went everywhere that Helvie did, ever since she turned twelve years old, and that was nearly a decade ago. Her father had no male heir, and he worried that there would never be a Vulgrin the Fifth. That meant taking extra care of his sole daughter, and his power and influence, especially with the duchy of Ulatha, meant the assignment of a Fist of Astor for her protection.
Lucina was probably one of the better Fists in the entire Astor Order. She was dedicated, loyal, brave, and an exceptional fighter and rider. At first, Helvie felt oppressed by the constant attention at the hands of the large warrior woman, until she matured and understood her role in society better. The fact that her father’s small barony warranted a Fist instead of a Hand was noteworthy. The duke of Ulatha, Uthor, considered the baron a close friend.
“Fine,” Helvie said. “I’ll tell you what. We investigate this mauling of the local family’s bull, and then we will return home without the hunt.”
“Really, my lady?” Godfrey asked, pleased to have something go his way with the wayward noblewoman.
“Of course, Godfrey. We can dine on beef or pork this evening. It doesn’t need to be venison,” Helvie said.
“Well, that sounds more appropriate now that the local magistrate is involved, and time is short,” Lucina said, her spirits lifting.
“Speaking of which, here they come,” Godfrey said, nodding toward the village.
The three men rode hard, surprising the group, as they weren’t accustomed to seeing the commoners with mounts. Usually, most horses were used for domestic duties, and they were expensive to keep and maintain. When a commoner did ride a horse, that was usually all they did—ride and walk with it.
The men arrived, and Fergus shouted orders for the group to disperse and go home. He indicated that Clive had notified the local butcher and the trading post owner to come and dispose of the carcass. Helvie didn’t want to know if they would simply bury it or carve it up and use it, or a little of both.
With little more to say, the group rode along the edge of the Greenfeld, away from the direction of the village and the capital. If they returned by following the forest, they would find themselves only a few leagues away from Vulkor proper. In this western direction, they were riding deeper into the frontier, with their destination being the Hamills’ homestead.
True to his prediction, the group arrived in about a half hour, at a fairly fast pace. Their horses were somewhat lathered, and the first thing they thought of was water for them. Most homesteads had at least one wooden trough, and this cabin was no exception. Of course, with twenty-five mounts, they would have to take turns, and Helvie was already worried that they’d have to help the owner bring water up from a nearby stream.
“Looks quiet enough,” Godfrey said, not at all sounding convinced.
“Too quiet, if you ask me,” Lucina responded. “Where are these Hamills?”
Fergus shook his head. “I don’t know. Usually with a group this large, someone would have come from the cabin to see what is what. Fauke, go and see if John and Ann are inside.”
The mayor’s son dismounted, giving his reins to the magistrate, who sat waiting for the soldiers to water their horses. Having ridden hard all morning, the locals were allowing the nobles to drink first, so to speak.
“I’ll go with him,” Godfrey said, dismounting and handing his reins to his chief aide. It did not go unnoticed that the commander drew his blade as they reached the door.
Fauke knocked politely first, and then banged louder on the door. With a nod at Godfrey, who returned it, the mayor’s son opened the door. The light streaming in from the rear of the building wasn’t natural, and they all knew that something was wrong.
Helvie spurred her horse toward the rear of the cabin, which had been directly behind the riders as they approached. As she came around the building, she saw that the entire back side was pulled down and dried blood was everywhere. Through the gaping hole in the back, she could see both Godfrey and Fauke standing inside the building amidst overturned furniture and linen strewn everywhere. The roof had partially collapsed, and parts of the wooden shingles and straw, used for insulating, were scattered amongst the cabin’s interior.
“What in Agon happened here?” Clive said, coming around with Lucina and Fergus while most of the troops remained in the front, lined up to water the horses.
Lucina dismounted and walked over to the hole in the back. “Godfrey, what do you make of this?”
Godfrey walked over a chair and some boards, picking his steps carefully, exiting out the hole in the wall to stand next to the Fist looking at the ground. There, in the damper ground that had been in shadow all day, was an impression that looked like a cat, only it was immense, much larger, and it spanned at least three feet, if not four. “That’s not possible,” he said.
“What do you see?” Fergus asked, not bothering to dismount, moving his horse closer to the cabin.
“It appears to be an animal track, Father,” Fauke said.
“That’s no animal,” Lucina said, moving around and scanning the ground. Despite her service in the cities to the Astor Order, she had once led more than one justice party, bringing back escaping criminals to face a court or ruler.
Lucina drew her blade now, worrying not only Helvie but the locals as well. “What are you doing, Fist of Astor? Do you expect trouble?” Fergus asked, looking around.
“She always expects trouble,” Helvie answered for her bodyguard, “but this time, I’m thinking it’s more serious than usual.”
“I’ll set a watch immediately,” Godfrey said, receiving a nod of approval from Lucina, who remounted and whirled her horse toward the broken fencing of the small pasture between the cabin and the forest. Godfrey went around the front, while Helvie and Fergus rode after the holy warrior.
The pasture fencing was intact, except for a break on the far side. The ground inside looked trampled and worn; little grass grew there, and what did was cropped close to the ground. Dirt ruled supreme within the confined space.
“What do you make of this?” Lucina asked, looking at Fergus.
Fergus looked around, scanning the area before responding. “I know the Hamills had more than one cow, though I don’t see a sign of any of them.”
“Yes,” Clive said, coming over on foot, leading both his and Fauke’s horses. “They had five cows, one of them for milking.”
“How can you be sure?” Helvie asked, not understanding how the trampled mess could indicate how many cattle were once there.
Clive responded while tying the horses to a section of fencing. “Because they were taxed on them not more than two months ago.”
Helvie nodded and smiled, not knowing if the remark was meant as factual, or if there was a hint of displeasure, as she was sure a portion of any tax would go to her father’s coffers. “I see,” she said. “But do you think they just ran away?”
“Like the bull?” Lucina asked, looking at each companion in turn.
“You think something broke through that cabin wall back there and then broke the fence?” Fergus asked, raising his brows at the holy warrior.
“Yes, except for the fence,” Lucina answered. “I think the cattle, or even the bull, did that themselves.”
“So they panicked
and ran?” Helvie asked, understanding where her bodyguard was going with her line of thought.
“That is what it looks like . . . to me.” Lucina scanned their surroundings.
“What could cause such a thing?” Helvie asked.
“That is the real question,” Fergus said. “Will you help us?”
Lucina gave the mayor a look that was not pleasant and then a glance to Helvie to see what she would decide. As the baron’s daughter, despite the wisdom and brawn of her entourage, she had ultimate authority on what they did, or didn’t, do.
“Yes,” Helvie said. “We need to see if there is still a danger to your village, and we should look for this family here. They could be nearby, lost in the woods, for all we know.”
The men exchanged glances and then all looked to Lucina as Godfrey returned, mounted with six soldiers in tow. “My lady,” Lucina said.
“What is it, Lucina?” Helvie asked.
Lucina sighed, and Helvie didn’t like her expression. She liked her words even less. “We can search for the family, but they are most likely dead.”
The proclamation was short and to the point, and not subtle in the manner that Helvie was accustomed to hearing. “You know this for certain?”
“No,” Lucina said, “but it is obvious from the cabin that whatever happened, it involved a massive loss of blood. I’ve fought many battles, and I can tell you that more than one person died there not long ago.”
Helvie was shocked. She turned to Fergus. “How many were in the Hamill family?”
Fergus turned to Clive, who shook his head. His voice was tinged with grief. “Five.”
Anger started to well within the baron’s daughter, and her face turned red. She gritted her teeth, thinking of something to say. Godfrey spoke before she could muster the words. “Now, my lady, you have that look about you that warns me of danger.”
“I’ve seen that look too,” Lucina said. “She’s entitled to it.”
The Green Dragon: A Claire-Agon Dragon Book (Dragon Series 3) Page 3