Of Lords and Commoners: Book 1 (Lords and Commoners Series)

by Lynne Hill-Clark

  “Ah, I see what is going on.”

  I looked to Father with anticipation.

  After a thoughtful pause, he continued, “Well, yes and no, my spring flower. It is a demon of sorts that has possessed you. What you are feeling is jealousy and jealousy is the work of the devil. You see, you care for Teller.”

  “Yes, of course. He is one of my dearest friends.”

  “No, my dear, that was not a question. What I am saying is you love him.”

  I almost dropped the clay bowl from my hand. I shook my head. This could not be! I did not like the grin on Father’s face — it was unsettling.

  “Aye, my spring flower is growing up.”

  I mulled over Father’s words for days. I was so embarrassed and confused by these new feelings that I avoided Teller completely. Of course, Father was right. After a couple of weeks, I reluctantly accepted that there was no other explanation. Now the question was, how did Teller feel about me? Would he always view me as the knock-kneed tomboy who used to out-climb him up trees? I had always been lighter, so I could usually go higher and perch on branches that would have swayed under his weight. I will always remember the time I fell out of a tall tree and broke my arm.

  Chapter 3 Ludus 1260 A.D

  Our small village of Ludus was almost entirely surrounded by the Carpathian Mountains. We were quietly nestled in the lush green lands of the valley and largely isolated from the outside world by the glorious peaks surrounding us.

  Every Sunday evening was spent in church. Josiah and I would listen to our Father deliver his orations. On occasion I would have to give Mari a nudge to wake her but my little brother and I hung onto every word. We listened earnestly, eager to understand. Our father had taught us to read so that we too could know the words of Christ firsthand. We had no other books to read at that time; the Bible was it. In fact, the only book in our entire village was Father’s lone Bible. It was invaluable to us. The three of us would take turns reading it aloud by the fire on long, cold winter nights.

  A wealthy noble who went by the title of Lord Chastellain had recently moved to Ludus. His estate was on a large piece of land outside of town. The lord seemed particularly old and sinister. His son was a debonair and supercilious young man named Elijah. Aside from his appearance in church, Elijah was only seen occasionally, riding a magnificent charger through town with his head held high.

  Since they’d moved to Ludus, Lord Chastellain and his son had faithfully attended Father’s Sunday services. The lord had befriended Father and they often took afternoon walks — endlessly discussing theology. One morning, the lord and his son paid us an unexpected visit.

  “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” Father queried as he gestured for them to enter.

  “Surely we do not need a reason to visit the village deacon?” Lord Chastellain replied.

  “I am not sure our humble abode is quite up to the standards of nobles.”

  “Nonsense, my dear man. It is good to be reminded of how the common folk live.”

  The tone of the conversation was one of jest, yet I had the feeling that things could go wrong quickly, so I decided to change the subject and be a proper hostess.

  “My Lord.” I gave a slight bow. “I made a fresh batch of jam tarts. May I offer you both some?”

  “That would be wonderful, child,” replied the lord.

  His critical gaze was disconcerting. It was a relief to head to the kitchen, which I did quickly.

  After serving my famous pastries, I returned once again to the kitchen. It was customary that women should not concern themselves with men’s conversations or be present with unrelated men in the home. Nevertheless, our home was small, so as I busied myself with cleaning, I could hear their conversation.

  More niceties were exchanged before Lord Chastellain stated, “Of course, my dear friend, we have come today with a proposition for you. You see, my son here is quite taken with your lovely daughter. He has decided to offer her his hand in marriage.”

  My only thought was, Can’t the poor boy speak for himself?

  “Ah, I see,” Father said. After a thoughtful pause, he continued, “I am afraid my daughter may not agree to such an arrangement. Yet I shall speak with her about the matter.”

  It was silent for a moment. “You will speak to your daughter?” the lord replied. His voice was deep and stern. “Are you not her father? Is it not your responsibility to find a suitable companion for her? There is no other who could provide for her as we can.”

  I did not like the way he used the word we, as if I would be married to him as well. The thought sent a chill down my spine.

  “Of course, My Lord. I will see if I can talk some sense into the girl but I will not sentence her to a marriage to which she does not agree. I desire my daughter’s happiness beyond all the riches in the world. In the end, the choice is hers, as it is her life.”

  “You…” Lord Chastellain paused, as if lost for words — which most likely did not happen very often. “You are unlike any other man I have ever met. I admire you.”

  Something told me that his “kind” words came with an underlying threat.

  With that, Father stood. “If that is all, my friends, let me show you to the door. It is getting late.”

  I had never been more grateful to my father. It was easy to see what an extraordinary man he was.

  After our company had safely departed, I said, “Oh, Father, what shall we do? I have the feeling that Lord Chastellain will not take no for an answer. I hardly know Elijah and his father is … frightening.”

  “Now, now, my dear. Lord Chastellain is a friend.” A concerned expression passed over his face. “However, there is something about this meeting that worries me. I can’t quite place it — an uneasy feeling. For now, you can take your time in deciding. I presume we can put them off for a bit. Do not fret too much, as no immediate answer is required. Perhaps it would do no harm to get to know the boy a bit.”

  “As you wish, Father.” The thought troubled me and Father looked as concerned as I felt.

  Shortly after, I headed to the tavern. There were meals to prepare and rooms to clean. This kept me from thinking about my predicament too much. I did not make eye contact with Teller. When he approached me, I told him there was much to be done and that I did not have time to talk. I did not even slow down to see his reaction. Later, in the kitchen, he grabbed my arm to stop me.

  “Did I do something to offend you?” he asked.

  “No, not at all. What makes you say that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he said with derision. “Perhaps it is because you won’t even say hello to me, like the time you were angry with me for lighting your hair on fire when we were nine years old.”

  I could not help smiling at the memory. Of course, at the time, I had been furious but now it seemed amusing. No permanent damage was done, as the hair had grown back nicely. My current behavior must seem odd to him. The red heat rushing to my cheeks would also seem odd. Fortunately, I was saved from further comment or embarrassment as Uncle Ezekiel came into the kitchen. He looked between us with the same down turned mouth that he had the last time he found Teller and me together. Teller quickly let go of my upper arm, which he had continued to hold to keep me from running away again.

  “Did you retrieve the wine from the cellar for the guests?” Ezekiel asked.

  “Not yet, Uncle. I will have it for them in an eye-blink.” For the first time ever, I was relieved that he needed my help right away.

  “I have to go,” I stammered.

  Teller gave me an irritated frown and turned to leave the tavern. My uncle followed him out, as if to speak with Teller in private. I wondered what that was about. Uncle clearly had a problem with us being alone. This was odd, as it had never been an issue before.

  Chapter 4 Ludus 1260 A.D

  Finally the work was done and it was time for me to head home for the night. That was when Mari entered the tavern to look for me.

  �
�How are you?” Mari’s voice was full of concern.

  “Very well. Why? Do I not seem so?” I said.

  “Teller asked me to come and walk you home. He is worried about your … unusual behavior lately.”

  “What unusual behavior?” I played ignorant.

  She frowned at me. “You have hardly spoken to us lately.”

  “I see. He was hoping I would talk to you?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “It would be nice to have the company.” It was wonderful to see her. She was a true friend. Now that I better understood these strange new feelings, I was able to control them, or at least not let them control me. I was no longer jealous of Mari and Teller’s friendship. However, I was ashamed about feeling jealous and discomfited by my new desire for Teller. Yet I would not allow the devil’s work to harm my friendship with Mari. Father had raised me better than that.

  I placed my arm in Mari’s. She gave me a smile and we started walking home. Outside, it was pitch black, so we each carried a lantern as we walked in silence. This was unusual for us. We always spoke freely, as childhood friends do. Finally, she broke the awkward silence.

  “So, what is going on with you?” Her large brown eyes were full of curiosity.

  I did not want to tell her how I had recently discovered my feelings for Teller had changed, as this would be relayed directly to Teller. Nor did I wish to mention Elijah, for it would seem like boasting and that was not how I felt about the situation. Would she understand my fears about Lord Chastellain and the complication of having to get to know Elijah? I decided to try her.

  “Do you swear not to tell a soul?” I started.

  Mari looked displeased. “You know I despise secrets.”

  “Please. I do not want anyone to know yet, not even Teller.” Especially Teller, I thought.

  Mari reluctantly agreed.

  “Do you know Lord Chastellain?” I began.

  “You mean that sinister old man with the eccentric son?” Mari replied.

  “Yes.” I sighed. “That is to whom I’m referring. They visited our home and asked Father for my hand in marriage.”

  Mari’s jaw dropped open. “That is … unexpected. A nobleman and a deacon’s daughter? That is virtually unheard of. Many folks assumed that the young lord would be betrothed to a foreign noble. Well, that is every girl’s dream come true,” she finished with excitement.

  I remained silent.

  By the light of the lantern, Mari studied the expression on my face. “And yet … you’re not happy about it, are you?”

  Mari knew me well. I shook my head no in answer to her question. I was about to tear up. She put her arm around my shoulders. We walked in silence for a time and then, as if she had finally mustered up enough courage, she asked, “When will the wedding take place?”

  That was when I realized I had not told her the whole story. Of course she thought that the arrangement had been sealed. Not many fathers would have been offered such an opportunity for a daughter to marry up in social status. The typical father would have quickly agreed to the arrangement and set a date for the near future in order to collect a hefty dowry for the rest of his family. This would also help to ensure that the young man did not have much time to change his mind. I suppose this was what the Chastellains had expected my father would do — gladly hand me over to them for an extravagant price.

  “Oh, you know my beloved father. He is leaving the decision up to me.”

  Mari’s eyes widened in surprise. “Your father is … peculiar!” She laughed. I could not help joining her. With awe she asked, “What are you going to do?”

  “Father asked that I at least get to know the young lord.”

  “You know, most women would love to be in your shoes. Not only to have such a solicitous father but to marry a future Lord. What an opportunity! And he is wondrously handsome. I cannot imagine anyone turning down such an offer.”

  Maybe I was peculiar as well because the thought of marrying Elijah only made my heart ache for Teller. Perhaps, like my father, I would rather be happy than wealthy. It appeared that I could not have both.

  “It will be difficult to refuse Elijah. His father does not seem the type to take rejection well,” I said.

  “You are going to refuse him? You do realize this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance you are being given. Why would you possibly refuse?”

  “I don’t know.” I did not want to tell her the main reason, so I gave her the secondary one. “Elijah’s father is frightening.”

  She gave me a look as though I were being ridiculous.

  Out of the darkness, a horrible tortured scream rang through the air. We exchanged a startled look and ran off the wagon trail toward the scream. While that may not have been the smartest thing to do, all I knew was that someone was in trouble and we had to help. We ran for quite a while, led by the faint sound of someone gasping for breath. The sound stopped yet we continued in the same direction. With my longer legs I was in the lead. I had always been able to outrun Mari. This time it was not to my advantage, as I fell over something that was covered in a warm, slimy liquid.

  The fall caused me to drop the lantern and the candle went out. I slowly stood and tried to look around but there was no moonlight. Blackness was all around me, as if my eyes were closed when they were indeed wide open. Panic overtook me.

  Thankfully, Mari came running up, bringing with her light to see by. She started screaming when she saw me — and the figure at my feet. We were both covered in blood. My heart raced even faster when I realized that it had been a person I had tripped over. Together we rolled the figure over. I recognized the face at once. He was the village baker.

  “Emil!” I screamed. “No, no! What happened to you?” I shook him. Not knowing what else to do, I felt his face and chest; he was still warm. His neck and torso were covered in blood and there was a horrible wound on his neck. Once I had seen the town healer, Sofia, place an ear to an elderly man’s nose to feel and listen for breath before pronouncing him dead. This was all I could think to do. I felt nothing. No breath.

  Mari’s face had gone pure white. “What do we do?” she whispered.

  “Run and get help!”

  Mari headed for town, leaving me, yet again, in compete darkness.

  “Wait!” I fumbled for my lantern.

  She used her candle to relight mine and I returned to Emil’s side to wait with him, as Mari headed back to the village. Those were the longest moments of my life. It felt as if days had passed before Mari returned with help. All I could do was sit there by Emil, hoping he would wake — he did not. I was utterly useless and there was nothing I could do to save him.

  Chapter 5 Ludus 1260 A.D

  The next couple of days were a fog. I could scarcely get the blood off my hands and my dress was ruined. Eating was minimal, if at all. When I closed my eyes, all I could see was blood. This made sleep almost impossible. One night I woke to my brother shaking me. I had been dreaming that same nightmare about Teller killing our father.

  “Shhh, you’re not in danger,” he was saying. “You are safe.” After that I had to have my brother near in order to sleep. He started sleeping on the floor in my room.

  Unfortunately, Emil was not the only victim. The following month, another person was found murdered and yet another had gone missing. The missing man was a farmer who lived outside of Ludus. The townspeople were in an uproar, which called for a village meeting. The only thing the villagers agreed on was that the villain must be captured. What to do with him once caught was a matter of debate.

  Teller’s father, Ivan and my own were often at odds. This particular village meeting proved to be no different. Ivan was a warrior; he’d fought against the Mongols before Teller and I were born. He enjoyed telling the story of heading off to war when his wife’s belly was large with his first son. Thankfully, the Mongols did not stay long and Ivan was able to return home shortly after Teller was born.

  Ivan was not one to “spare the rod” whe
n it came to his children — or his wife, for that matter. He valued strength and stamina. Every summer, he organized a tournament of games designed to test a man’s physical abilities. It had become the most anticipated community event in Ludus. Most men and boys aged fifteen and up participated — save the elders of the village, of course. Ivan competed and was often the winner of the games as well. All the villagers attended the tournament, just as they had turned out for this particular meeting. The summer tournament might be threatened this year if the killer was not caught.

  “We need to set up a watch and men must be ready to form a hunting posse at a moment’s notice,” Ivan declared.

  “A hunting posse?” Father asked. “What exactly will be done if someone suspected of the killings is caught?”

  “If this is the work of one man, he will be hanged immediately. If this is the work of the Mongols provoking us to war, then all capable men must be ready to fight,” Ivan proclaimed.

  “Let us consider this for a moment,” Father replied. “The first issue is that immediately hanging the man would be a sin. What if an innocent man is killed and the murders continue? He must be brought before the people of the village and detained until we can be sure the right man was caught. The people will decide his fate.”

  “Aye, Adam, ever the peacemaker,” Ivan scoffed. He would do most anything to provoke my father. But Adam practiced what he believed and would never give Ivan the pleasure of an angry outburst.

  Undeterred, Father continued, “Secondly, it is unlikely that these murders were committed by a foreign army. They are too few and they appear to be random, hence making them an unlikely prelude to war. The way the bodies are mutilated, the killings are most likely the work of a madman.”

  This sparked lots of murmuring in the crowd. Finally, one of the elders spoke over the villagers in a loud voice. Clamius was the unspoken leader of the village. He was not officially elected or even nominated by the people. He did not have a title of leadership. He was simply the oldest and wisest man amongst us. He was fair and the people trusted him.