Servant of the Crown Mysteries by Denise Domning

Author:Denise Domning
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Medieval
Published: 2016-06-21T22:00:00+00:00

Bernart's servants opened the gate. Still fretting over the opportunity he was sure he'd lost, Faucon looked at the soldier who had led the town guard. The dark-haired man had pressed forward to the head of the crowd until he stood to one side of Bernart's gate, watching the other jurors enter past him.

Faucon blinked, and looked again, certain he was mistaken. This soldier was bearded, brown of eye and hair, and older than Faucon by more than a decade. He was built much like Faucon, being broad of shoulder, thick of arm and narrow of hip. A new scar drew a fine line down one side of his rawboned face, and his strong nose bore a slight crook, the result of a long ago break. Indeed, a ten-year-old break. It had happened when this man and one of his younger half-brothers had fought over a family matter.

"Temric of Graistan?" Faucon asked in astonishment, clambering down off the wall.

At Faucon's call, the man joined the crowd long enough to step inside Bernart's courtyard, then exited the flow to stand with his Crowner. He bowed, offering the greeting of commoner to noble, rather than meeting Faucon as knights did, by clasping hands. Then again, Temric, Bastard of Graistan, was a knight who had refused his title and chose instead to serve his younger brother, Lord Graistan, as a simple master-at-arms, a commoner's position.

"Aye, that is who I am, Sir Faucon," Temric replied, not sounding particularly pleased at their unexpected meeting. Then again, Faucon had never heard this strange man sound pleased about anything.

"Why are you leading the town guard?" Faucon asked, still reeling over the coincidence of their meeting.

"I don't lead the guard," Temric replied, unconsciously settling into a warrior's stance, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "But I have been helping their master train the younger journeymen. It just so happened I was on the practice yard when the lad arrived, saying that this inquest was afoot and that the pleykster meant to interfere." Here he stopped, when Faucon craved more.

"But why are you in Stanrudde at all?" he persisted in confusion.

"My mother lives here. She's recently widowed and begged my presence and assistance so she may grieve as she must. As her house is in this parish, I am one of your jurors. So here I am," replied the man who was both English and Norman at once. His lips twisted into a tight and crooked smile. "I might ask the same of you, Sir Faucon. How come you to be in Stanrudde, acting as this Crowner?"

Faucon laughed at that. "At your lord brother's command," he replied. "Bishop William was determined to force Lord Graistan to take on these new duties, while Lord Rannulf was just as determined not to be forced where he didn't wish to go. To save himself, he raised my name and threw me to the wolves."

Grinning, Faucon added, "Not that I am complaining, mind you. To hold this position a knight must have an income of twenty pounds a year, which bishop and baron together have made mine.

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