Page 39 of The Herald's Heart
“N ... no, Sir Talon. I’ll be right happy to help ye. It’s just that the earl never did any such thing.”
“Who did?”
“Well, I guess I did. I’d report about the goings on here when the earl arrived to visit. But it weren’t like I inspected nothing. Folk in the keep and Hawking Sedge trust each other. They’d be mighty offended were I to start poking around in their business and belongings.”
Talon ground his teeth. The earl was responsible for setting standards and expectations. Cleve was not at fault. “I stand in the earl’s stead until he returns. I will not have him or any other claim I neglected the duties he should carry out. Have my horse saddled and one for yourself; we’ll leave as soon as I give orders for the rest of the training and tonight’s watch. You may tell me all you know about the servants and villagers as we ride.”
Cleve turned on his heel, hurrying toward the stable.
“Ye already know of the trouble between Wat the miller and his wife. ’Tis also widely known that Wat will cheat any and all who make use of his mill. His wife dresses above her station, and all know ’tis because Wat’s cheating provides enough money to keep her happy and mostly looking the other way when he wenches elsewhere.”
“Tell me of some of the folk I’ve not yet met.”
“Well most of the folk are honest and hard-working. Davy the smith works miracles in metal. Ye’ll nay find a rusty hinge or unbalanced blade in the keep. Alice Cook dotes on him. Some say because he’s one of the few men who is taller and heavier than she. But I think ’tis because he keeps all her pots in good working order. And I don’t mean just the metal ones.” Cleve leered and waggled his brows.
“Does your priest not object to their fornication?”
“Well now, there’s a might too much fornicating going on in Hawking Sedge for Father Timoras to do much about it save preach a sermon now and then. Besides, he’s much more concerned with weaseling into the earl’s good graces, and holds himself above the common folk.”
“That is a shame.” Were he in charge, Talon would replace the priest with a man of greater understanding and faith. Hawking Sedge suffered entirely too much hypocrisy. “Who are the drunkards and troublemakers?”
“Those come mostly from Rosewood Castle. That lot don’t have much self-control. The alewife always locks up her best stock when she sees ’em coming. The villagers don’t visit the tavern when Baron Le Hourde’s men are drinking. Those are the most troublesome men hereabouts.”
“The sooner Baron Le Hourde answers my summons, the better. I’ll add his men’s behavior to the growing list of items I will discuss with him.”
Armed with knowledge and insight gained from Cleve’s tales about the residents of the keep and Hawking Sedge village, Talon conducted his inspection as quickly as possible. The smith apologized for the poor condition of the arms and armor, though from what Talon could see, Davy was very skilled. The man revealed he could only do so much with metal of such poor quality, but the earl refused to pay the ironmonger’s price for better materials. Talon promised to discuss the problem with the earl when he returned and vowed to spend more wisely if he ever held Hawksedge.
They went next to the mill. Wat complained loudly that Talon had no right to inspect his mill. They ignored the miller’s protests and entered. The filth and disorder within appalled Talon. Cleve, who was familiar with the situation, shrugged his shoulders but smiled when Talon told him to arrest the miller, place him in the stocks, and appoint a new man who would neither cheat the villagers and the earl’s servants nor poison the flour with dirt and vermin.
The smith’s story was repeated with the tanner, the alewife, and all the others who supplied or labored for the Earl of Hawksedge. That lord made great demands, paid little or no coin, yet provided living quarters that suffered from rot and decay. Talon had seen the riches in the keep that now lay in an iron chest within the solar. The earl donated large sums to the abbey and was reputed to spend most of his time in prayer. How could any man who had such wealth keep his people in poverty and claim to be Christian or even pretend to piety? Were the donations given to ease a guilty conscience? If so, there was a great deal more than parsimony to lay at the earl’s doorstep.
How could a man who beat women to death, ordered the murder of an entire family, and tossed an innocent child alone into the cold be anything but evil? Talon swallowed the rage that threatened to spill. Would Larkin’s claim to be the earl’s bride change anything? He doubted it. He strongly suspected that if the earl recognized Larkin as his countess, she would be dead within the year. Talon would not allow that. The earl’s perfidy must be reported to the king. Justice would require Longshanks to replace the earl with another man. Talon was the most logical choice. Then he would be able to keep Larkin safe. He could give her back Rosewood. She’d never claimed to want Hawksedge Keep, so they could still be friends, if not lovers.
For now, he would change what he could and insist the earl make other changes when he returned, on threat of Talon’s report to Longshanks.
The inspection had been enlightening and nearly as exhausting as poring over the earl’s old records or training the rather inept keep guards. Talon had one last stop to make. Then he would assure himself that Larkin had returned safely. A second attack in the same place, especially in broad daylight with a witness, was unlikely. The young guard probably had more to fear from Lady Larkin’s strong will than any attackers.
Afterward, he would attend his bed. But tired as he was, he doubted he’d find sleep easily. ’Twas all the lady’s fault.
Cleve at his side, Talon knocked on the door to the cottage where Aedwin and his mother lived. The door opened slowly. Aedwin’s mother stood in the opening. She shook visibly and kept her eyes downcast, but did not move from the doorway. “Please, Sir Talon. I am sorry Aedwin spoiled the pheasants when he got too close to the fire. I promised ’twon’t happen again.”
Talon frowned and placed a fist on each hip. What was she talking about?
She shrank back from him. Her arms raised as if to ward off an attack. “Nay, do not beat us. I am a poor woman, but I will find some way to pay for the ruined capons and the trouble Aedwin caused in the earl’s kitchens.”
She expected him to beat her? Talon felt his jaw go slack. His arms dropped to his sides as his shoulders slumped. If he needed more evidence of his father’s vile nature, he had it. Talon took the woman’s hands and lifted her upright.
“Nay,” she wailed and thrashed against his grip. “Beat me if you must. I will not let you harm Aedwin. He suffers enough.”
He let go of the woman. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her more. He was, for once, glad the earl denied his paternity. “Nay, indeed.” He gentled his voice and reached out to stroke back the hair that her struggles had whipped into her face. “Woman, I intend no beatings to you or your child.”
“N ... no beatings? Then what d’ye want wi’ me and Aedwin?”
“I wish to know how the child fares. Mayhap to see him and thank him for his courage in the earl’s service.” Talon tried to smile and keep his hands open at his sides.
“Ye do?”
He was tired. His day had been long, and frustrating. However, too many of the earl’s folk had greeted him as Aedwin’s mother did, with suspicion if not outright fear, so he controlled his impatience. “Aye.”
