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even year had passed to the day -on the same
ominous day our saviour Gilles le Breton was born so long ago- since the lord
of the land, a cruel and avaricious man by the name of Jacques de Marlais, had
died in a revolt of the people he had so unrelentingly extorted for his own
greed, and finally to his own ruin. Having no heirs or living relatives the
land was handed down by the sovereign into the care of the charge of the
previous lord, a man who was his brother by rites of marriage, Pierre d'Aide
Avare. True to his guardian, his was an even more harsh rule; the revolt
bloodily thrown down, heavier taxes, he even punished the household for their
supposedly inability to safeguard their lord. All knights and family had
abandoned him over the years -which he did not rue: for now he had less mouths
to feed. And now, being an old bitter man, he would reach a cornerstone of his
life.
The harsh wind vainly tried to rip the shutters
open in order to let in the wrath of winter. The land had been harrowed with
waves of unrelenting snows which now covered the frozen earth. In a room with scant
furnishings and bereft of everything safe for the most basic needs; the lord of
the land sat at a simple wooden table with his master of coin, Robert de
Cratchis, meticulously going over all expenditures and income. The entire table
was littered with parchments and neat stacks of coins. A lone candle threw long
shifting shadows against the walls. The sudden knocking on the door startled
both men. The few guards and servants still working in the keep would ever try
to stay away from their lord unless it was necessary. Indeed, even guests were
near unheard of in Castle Londain as they received no more than the compulsory
welcome from the greedy lord.
Pierre grumbled with indignant voice: "Find out
who dares to disturb me this evening and send them back into the storm."
The poor Robert instantly rose from his seat,
grateful to leave the table as they had sat there since noon trying to discern
where two measly coppers had disappeared to. Behind the door stood a handsome young
knight with a courtly smile. Frederick was one of the few visitors the castle
ever received a year. And every year he would invite his uncle for dinner on
King's Sleep Day and every year the latter would refuse. Surprisingly he still seemed
to like his uncle ever since he underwent his years as a squire at the castle.
"Good evening, Robert." With a glance at the table he added. "Still working
this late?" Robert's tired eyes was as good an answer as any. The nephew then addressed
his relative. "My esteemed uncle, by this light you are prone to make more
errors. Your gold will be there on the morrow."
"At this rate, Frederick, it won't." The old
man didn't even look up from the list of detailed rows to greet his favourite
(and only) nephew. "Some-one has dared to steal from me. And if I find out who,
they won't enjoy one more blissful day on this earth."
Frederick merely arched his brow at this cold
welcome. "Surely no-one would have dared after what happened to the last poor
sod who tried." Frederick's riding boots resounded through the chambers as he
stood next to his uncle. "But I'm here for another matter. Elise was wondering
whether you'd be interested in coming to dinner the day after tomorrow. We have
rounded up some of the family to celebrate King's Sleep together. We'd be
honoured if you'd come."
"Celebrate the birth of Gilles? Bah, nonsense!"
His eyes narrowed and he impatiently waved his hand as if to dispel the notion.
"Why would you waste time and money for that? The man has been dead for over a
thousand years now. Nay, you'd be better off saving your money, Frederick."
The disappointment was clear in the eyes of the
young knight but Pierre didn't even deign it necessary to look up from his
taxes. "So you won't come?"
"Nah, that way you'll be better off." He barely
heard the slam of the door as his nephew departed, engulfed as he by then was
in some unclear calculations.
The flame of the candle slowly
dwarfed on to reach the wax-crested chandelier and still lord d'Aide Avare
occupied the time of his unfortunate master of coin who wished dearly to be
with his family on this holy night. Pierre ignored the first knock on the door,
hoping whoever it was would go away. Robert however walked over by the second
knock to open the door. A group of knights stood at the door, their cloaks
drenched by the snow and bearing simple armour. "Evening's greetings, master,
are you the lord of this keep?"
Robert shook his head and brought the guests to
his master, wary of his reaction. For a while Pierre seemed adamant to not
acknowledge them so they'd disappear as ghosts. But the eldest of them
addressed him. "Blessings of the Lady upon you, sir. We are knights of the
Order of the Gillits who strive to improve the unfortunate poverty of the commoners.
We ourselves have sworn an oath of penury so to better aid those..."
"And I gather you want some kind of stipend."
Pierre grumbled, impatient for the knight's long and winding speech.
"It is our duty as righteous knights to give
something back to those who have given us their loyalty and obedience,
especially on the eve of the most holy day of the land: our holy saviour Gilles
did not overcome the greenskinned horde by himself."
The old man's thin patience with people who
disturbed him was no completely gone and he put them into their place. "By law
these are my lands and I'll have you not confuse the minds of the mud-born, you
hear? Their lives are owned by their lords who decide how to treat them. It is
not your right to meddle in our affairs. Anything I leave them, that ought to be
enough. Even more; they ought to be grateful!"
"And if the roles were reversed? Would you not
want some way to alleviate your suffering?"
"I'd rather die than to suffer the dishonour of
some knight's help without having earned it! In fact, so should they! At least
that way there would be less of them and their breeding would be under control."
The eldest did not dignify to reply as he stormed out of the room, followed by
his two companions.
As Robert returned to the table to
take his place but his lord interrupted him. "It's best we call it a day,
Robert, those fools broke my concentration with their nonsense and I'm weary
now. I'll see you on the morrow."
Gathering all his courage that was left to him,
he asked his lord a question to which he
could already guess the answer. "Milord, if it graces you, I'd like to have the
day off tomorrow. Castle life is slow at the moment and the tithes will be here
the day after. I haven't asked you for much this year but I'd like to spent a
day with the family."
Pierre had almost replied to deny him his leave
but he hesitated. A sudden whimsical feeling had overwhelmed him which he
quickly shrugged off but which he could not dismiss entirely. Even more so he
didn't feel so great, a cold had crept up to him as wolf in the night. "Sure,
Robert, have a day off."
"Yes, sir, I understand." Robert sullenly
started to reply until the message drove through. "I... Thank you, milord."
"But you better be here by the fourth bell on
Boxing Day or I'll have your hide."
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