The Tolls of Death by Michael Jecks

Author:Michael Jecks [Jecks, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: blt, _rt_yes, Fiction, _MARKED, Historical, General
ISBN: 9781472219787
Google: L3t4AgAAQBAJ
Publisher: Hachette UK
Published: 2014-02-26T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Simon and Baldwin were woken the next morning by the sudden eruption of noise as the little fortress’s servants began to rouse themselves.

It was something that Simon reckoned he could never get used to, this infernal din heralding each new day. To Baldwin it was as natural as breathing, and he lived with the row perfectly happily, but Simon groaned as the men entered the room, chatting loudly about their plans for the day, issuing orders as they went about which horse was to be taken for exercise first, whether the bitch was going to pup today or hold back for another, whether the falcon with the lame wing would recover, and then the more crucial decisions, such as should the red calf or the black one with the lighter flank be pole-axed today. All the Bailiff wanted was to pull his cloak back over his head and return to the arms of Morpheus. (Simon had no idea who the man was, but he’d heard Baldwin mention him before now, and he liked the sound of the phrase.)

When at last he sat up and pulled on his clothes, the hall was already almost filled. At a nearby wall, Baldwin sat slouched, his face dark as he stared into the distance. Gervase was sitting at a bench on the dais, dealing with the hundred and one little decisions which, as steward here, he must make each day, and not far from him, forlorn and chewing a fingernail, was Jules. His disconsolate clerk peering at his master with a look of impatience on his face.

Simon ran a hand through his tousled hair and felt a slight tension in his left shoulder. It was always the way when he slept on a bench. The damn things were too hard, but he supposed in a little place like this, he was lucky to have been given a bench to himself. All too often even a notable guest might be forced to sleep on the floor in a castle this size. It was good that the lord and his wife at least had their own chamber separate from the men here in their hall. Most modern castles were built this way, as Simon knew, because with so many hired men-at-arms, it was safer for the lord and his lady to be segregated in case of treachery. Things were no longer, as Baldwin was so fond of saying, as they used to be, when each warrior gave his oath to support and protect his lord for as long as either lived. There was no need for payment in those days – the man served his lord and in return he received food, shelter and clothing. Nowadays, the bastards always wanted money.

Simon’s mouth tasted foul. Last night, Jules and he had discovered a joint attraction for the red wine Gervase had stored in the buttery. It was flavoursome – powerful and sweet – and although Baldwin had retired to his sleep before long, Simon and Jules had remained in the corner, talking.

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