“It’s like this, see….”
The Adventurers had dismounted and took their ease in the shade of a great elm tree.
“…I didn’t have no say in the matter. I wasn’t asked do you want to be a knight? I was just called up and made one. What should I have done—refused? You don’t say nay to a man like Earl Ralf.”
“Then after I was all proper knighted, the earl says that I can have Grimsgard as my own estate. That didn’t mean too much at the time, seein’ as how I already got it, but it got a lot clearer when Wynkyn was tellin’ about it afterwards.”
“It’s all different from what I thought. No matter what was said during the ceremony, I wasn’t knighted and given land for my worthy deeds. Same with that young knight who was made Lord Skut. It was all part of the earl’s scheme to raise money.”
“In war, people get killed. Most of ‘em are just common foot soldiers or poor peasants armed with a rake or a hoe, but there’ always a few nobles that go down. This means the earl gets to appoint new nobles to take their places. But it costs ‘em money—they gotta pay for their titles.”
Sarah broke in with a question.
“Why would Wynkyn tell you this?”
“I think he’s grateful for us savin’ his hide from the Keltins. Anyway, it ain’t no secret, lassie. Everybody knows about it except us poor dumb Adventurers. Wynkyn says there was a bunch of people from town wantin’ to buy their way in.”
Thurmond spoke.
“Why did he pick you?”
“Just a guess, but I think he knows I can fight like a mama troll, and part of the deal is that we gotta give him so many days of soldierin’ every year. Also, he knows I’m too simple-minded to be treacherous. But mostly, he knows we got money.”
Now Torgul joined in.
“How much do you gotta pay?”
When Roscoe named the sum, their mouths dropped open in disbelief. Roscoe, however, remained undisturbed.
“I know it’s a considerable amount, and its more than I’ve got on hand. But I’ve got a year and a day to pay it off. So I’ll give him what I can right now, and I thought you three might be willin’ to make me a wee loan. You know I’m good for it, and it’s the adventurin’ way, don’t you know, helpin’ a brother out.”
Torgul was not taken in by his friend’s glib tongue.
“And where will the rest come from?”
Roscoe smiled broadly.
“No problem at all—we’ll have plenty of time for an adventure or two. I’ll start sniffin’ around. There’s bound to be a vampyre in need of a stake, or maybe some nasty troll’s been molesting a village. I’ll find us somethin’, don’t you worry.”
Thurmond recognized Roscoe’s smile, he always used it when making something dangerous or unpleasant seem appealing. Winning so much gold would be far more perilous than the old Adventurer was painting it, far more challenging than facing a difficult troll or hungry vampyre. They would have to take huge risks. Some or all of them might die. This was something to consider carefully.
“All right, Roscoe, I’ll loan you as much coin as I can. I just hope we can find an adventure that’ll pay enough to make all this worthwhile.”
Torgul nodded.
“Been kinda quiet around here lately. I’m ready for some excitement.”
Sarah, as usual, had her doubts, but she knew she could not hold back.
“I’m in.”
Pozi was hopping up and down with glee.
“Me, too! Me, too! Me, too!”
The old Adventurer’s eyes twinkled as they always did when his glib tongue was victorious.
“Well fine, if that’s settled, perhaps it’s time to reveal my grand design.”
His companions shouted out as one.
“Tell us! Tell us!”
“As I recall, Thurmond, you never really knew who your proper daddy was. Is that correct?”
“Aye, my mother always said it was Beaufort, that worthless nobleman who was killed at the baggage camp, but I always suspected the village carpenter. It’s hard to say, my mother knew a great many men.”
“So nobody could ever say for sure.”
“That’s right, why do you want to know?”
“All in good time, boyo. Now, what was the name of that village you grew up in?”
“I never knew its name. It must have had one, but we all just called it the village.”
“Hmmm, we might want to find that out, might could make a difference. You said it was somewhere east of here?”
“Several days walk. What difference does it make?”
“It’s all part of the design, laddie, so just be patient. You’re how old now?”
“Someplace around nineteen. I never knew my exact birthday, but it was sometime in the summer.”
“That’s fine. Nineteen years ago I was adventurin’ from one end of this county to the other, slayin’ monsters and takin’ their gold. Things was lots wilder back in them days, and I was a regular hellhound. Great days, so much fun.”
“Can’t even remember all the places I went or things I done. Met a lot of folks, some was nice, and some wasn’t so nice. Met a lot of lovely ladies, so I did. Lots of village women was real eager to keep company with a dashin’ young Adventurer, especially one with a purse full of gold sovereigns.”
Thurmond was getting more and more uncomfortable with Roscoe’s questions and cryptic comments.
“What’s your point? Where are you going with all this?”
“Just part of the design, so just hold your piss. Now who’s to say that a dashin’ young Adventurer didn’t come through your village, whatever it’s called, and chanced to meet a sweet lass by the name of…what did you say your mother’s name is?”
“Marge. Her name is Marge.”
“Well, let’s just suppose that the lovely Marge took a shine to this Adventurer, and the result was—you!”
“You’re saying you’re my father?”
“I’m sayin’ it’s possible, laddie, and so it is.”
“But you never really came to my village or met my mother.”
“Who can tell, boyo. There was lots of villages and pretty young girls.”
“God’s holy britches! Why would you even think such a thing?”
“Remember your conversation with Sarah’s daddy? He signed a paper recognizin’ her as his daughter, even if she was from the wrong side of the blanket, so to speak.”
Sarah now joined the conversation.
“My mother was a chambermaid. That document you mentioned—without it, I’m just another nameless bastard, but with it, I’m officially his child and could be in line to inherit his estate and maybe even his titles.”
“That’s the very paper I had in mind, so it is. You thought for while it might make you into a grand lady, as I recall.”
Sarah was embarrassed by this remark. She had, for a brief time, fallen afoul of her own vanity.
“Aye, I suppose that’s true. It pains me to recall those days. But it matters not. Everything must go to Bart. He’s older, and he’s legitimate. Most of all, he’s male.”
Thurmond smirked.
“Don’t give up hope, Sarah. I figure they hanged him and his crew for trying to kill us back at The Blind Pig. If they did, you still might find yourself Lady Sarah Staynes.”
He was teasing her, and she did not like it. Before she could reply, Roscoe intervened.
“Let’s not get sidetracked. I was speakin’ of my grand design, you may recall. Now then, boyo, supposin’ I was to draw up a paper like Sarah’s, namin’ you as my natural son, and conveyin’ all my worldly goods to you after my time is come. Then my title, Lord Grimsgard, might could come down to you.”
Thurmond was flabbergasted.
“You could do that? It’s possible?”
“I do believe it is. Wynkyn told me that bein’ a lord is lots different than bein’ a franklin. Before, I was just kinda the earl’s caretaker. Now the land and everythin’ are mine, to do with as I choose. And my title is what’s called heritable, meanin’ I can pass it down to my firstborn son, which, boyo, is your very own self. How’s that sound?”
“Why me?”
“Well, Torgul can’t do it. If you haven’t noticed, he’s a dwarf and would have a hard time passin’ for a little Roscoe. Besides, nobody in these parts would stand for a dwarf bein’ a lord. And Sarah? She’s already got a daddy. So that leaves you.”
“Anyway, laddie, I like you and think you’d make a fine lord. All that stuff you was sayin’ about knights and nobles? You weren’t wrong.”
“If I don’t have an heir, Grimsgard will go to somebody else, and I wouldn’t wanna it hand down to just anybody, like maybe to one of them fellas we met at the ale stand. Nay, it’s gotta be you. Just don’t be in a hurry to replace me.”
Sarah understood the wisdom of Roscoe’s design, but she remained uncertain about the likelihood of its success.
“Do you think the earl would allow such a thing?”
The old Adventurer threw her a knowing look.
“I think Earl Ralf would agree to about anythin’ if enough money was involved. We’ll need to hire a man-of-law to get the words just right, then a scrivener to write it out on fine white parchment and fancy up the borders with all kinda flourishes and curlicues. Finally, we gotta get a notary to witness the signin’ of the document and affix his seal. And when all is attended to in right legal and proper fashion, I’ll lay it before Earl Ralf with a big bag of gold. Why would he say no?”
Thurmond felt like he had been hit in the head with a hammer.
“When I was growing up in my village, a priest would come to it two or three times a year, and they would always tell us the same thing, that we were supposed to be happy about being hungry and living in shit. They said that Allfather Charon put us where he wants us and that to want anything different was to defy his will. That’s what they were always preaching.”
Sarah snorted, amused.
“I guess you weren’t paying much attention to the holy fathers’ teachings then.”
“Not much, I ran off as soon as I could.”
“As did we all, Thurmond. None of us were satisfied with the lives handed to us.”
“I know that, Sarah, but it’s been hard. We’ve had to take terrible risks just to live our own lives in our own way. Runaway apprentices are whipped, branded, sometimes mutilated. I was just a young boy—I didn’t even know a place to run to. I was just real lucky.”
Roscoe grunted in agreement.
“None of the nobles want the commoners bustin’ loose. That would be the end of all their special privileges, so it would.”
“I should’ve remained a carpenter’s apprentice just so Lord Beaufort could live in a castle? Is that what you’re telling me?”
Roscoe smirked.
“Somethin’ like that, laddie. We can’t have you disturbin’ the proper way of the world.”
Both laughed, but there was a degree of bitterness beneath the humor. Finally, Thurmond spoke.
“I’m having a hard time believing all this is real. You’re the son of a fruit monger—not a real noble. Maybe the earl was just making it all up.”
That made Roscoe chuckle.
“All this stuff about knights and nobles—it’s all just something they made up.”