“You back again?” he asked without looking up. “She told me she paid you silver to come here. Is that what you do? Take advantage of simple girls? Steal their hard-earned money, then eat their village’s food? If you came here to see if you can squeeze more coins out of me you’re gonna be disappointed.”
“I didn’t come here for money.”
“No? Then why did you?” he asked, tipping the second bucket. “If you really are here to get that club or sword or whatever that crazy cripple thinks is in the tower, shouldn’t you be trying to swim the river right now?”
“My partner is working on that as we speak.”
“Uh-huh, he’s the swimmer, is he? And what are you, the guy that squeezes the money out of poor miserable farmers? I’ve seen your kind before, highwaymen and cheats—you scare people into paying you just to live. Well, that’s not gonna work this time, my friend.”
“I told you I didn’t come here for money.”
Theron dropped the bucket at his feet and turned. “So why did you come here?”
“You left the wake early and I was concerned you might not have heard the news that everyone in the village is going to spend the night inside the castle walls.”
“Thanks for the notice,” he said and turning back corked the jugs. When he finished he looked up, annoyed. “Why are you still here?”
“What exactly do you know about combat?” Hadrian asked.
The farmer glared at him. “What business is it of yours?”
“As you pointed out, your daughter paid my partner and me good money to help you kill this monster. He’s working on providing you with a proper weapon. I am here to ensure you know how to use it when it gets here.”
Theron Wood ran his tongue along his teeth. “You’re fixin’ to educate me, are you?”
“Something like that.”
“I don’t need any training.” He picked up his buckets and yoke and began walking away.
“You don’t know the first thing about combat. Have you ever even held a sword?”
Theron whirled on him. “No, but I plowed five acres in one day. I bucked half a cord of wood before noon. I survived being caught eight miles from shelter in a blizzard and I lost my whole damn family in a single night! Have you done any of that?”
“Not your whole family,” Hadrian reminded him.
“The ones that mattered.”
Hadrian drew his sword and advanced on Theron. The old farmer watched his approach with indifference.
“This is a bastard sword,” Hadrian told him and dropped it at the farmer’s feet and walked half a dozen steps away. “I think it suits you rather well. Pick it up and swing at me.”
“I have more important things to do than play games with you,” Theron said.
“Just like you had more important things to do than take care of your family that night?”
“Watch ’yer mouth boy.”
“Like you were watching that poor defenseless grandson of yours? What was it really, Theron? Why were you really working so late that night, and don’t give me this bull about benefitting your son. You were trying to get some extra money this year for something you wanted. Something you felt you needed so badly you let your family die.”
The farmer picked up the sword. His breath hissing through his teeth, puffing his cheeks and rocking his shoulders back. “I didn’t let them die. It wasn’t me!”
“What did you trade them for, Theron? Some fool’s dream? You didn’t give a damn about your son; it was all about you. You wanted to be the grandfather of a magistrate. You wanted to be the big man, didn’t you? And you’d do anything to make that dream come true. You worked late. You weren’t there. You were out in the field when it came, because of your dream, your desires. Is that why you let your son die? You never cared about them at all. Did you? All you care about is yourself.”
The farmer charged Hadrian with the sword in both hands and swung at him. Hadrian stepped aside and the wild swing missed, but the momentum carried the farmer around and he fell to the dirt.
“You let them die Theron. You weren’t there like a man is supposed to be. A man is supposed to protect his family, but what were you doing? You were out in the fields working on what you wanted. What you had to have.”
Theron got up and charged again. Once more Hadrian stepped aside. This time Theron managed to remain standing and delivered more wild swings. Hadrian drew his short sword and deflected the blows. The old farmer was in a rage now and struck out maniacally, swinging the sword like an axe with single, hacking strokes that stole his balance. Soon Hadrian did not need to parry anymore and merely sidestepped out of the way. Theron’s face grew redder with each miss. Tears filled his eyes. At last, the old man collapsed to the dirt, frustrated and exhausted.
“It wasn’t me that killed them,” he yelled. “It was her! She left the light on. She left the door open.”
“No, Theron,” Hadrian took the sword from the farmer’s limp hands, “Thrace didn’t kill your family and neither did you—the beast did.” He slipped his sword back in its sheath. “You can’t blame her for leaving a door open. She didn’t know what was coming. None of you did. Had you known, you would have been there. Had your family known, they would have put out the light. The sooner you stop blaming innocent people and start trying to fix the problem the better off everyone will be.
“Theron, that weapon of yours may be mighty sharp, but what good is a sharp weapon when you can’t hit anything, or worse, hit the wrong target. You don’t win battles with hate. Anger and hate can make you brave, make you strong, but they also make you stupid. You end up tripping over your own two feet.” The fighter stared down at the old man. “I think that’s enough for today’s lesson.”
———
Royce and Esrahaddon returned less than an hour before sunset and found a parade of animals driving up the road. It looked like every animal in the village was on the move and most of the people were out along the edges with sticks and bells, pots and spoons banging away, herding the animals up the hill toward the manor house. Sheep and cows followed each other fine enough, but the pigs were a problem and Royce spotted Pearl with her stick, masterfully bringing up the rear.
Rose McDern, the smithy’s wife, was the first to spot them and suddenly Royce heard the words, “He’s back!” excitedly repeated amongst the villagers.
“What’s going on?” Royce asked Pearl, purposely avoiding the adults.
“Mov’n the critters to the castle. We all stay’n there tonight they says.”
“Do you know where Hadrian is?” You remember, the man I arrived with? Thrace was riding with him?”
“The castle,” Pearl told him and narrowed her eyes at the thief. “You really catch a pig in the dark?”
Royce looked at her, puzzled. Just then, a pig darted up the road and the girl was off after it, waving her long switch in the air.
The castle of the lord of Westbank was a typical motte and bailey fortress with the great manor house built on a steep man-made hill, surrounded by a wall of sharp tipped wooden logs that enclosed the outbuildings. A heavy gate barred the entrance. A half-hearted attempt at a moat ringed it, but amounted to nothing more than a shallow ditch. Cut trees left about forty yards of sharpened stumps in all directions.
A group of men worked at the tree line cutting pines. Royce was still a bit vague on names but he recognized Vince Griffin and Russell Bothwick working a dual handled saw. Tad Bothwick along with a few other boys raced around, trimming branches with axes and hatches. Three girls tied the branches into bundles and stacked them on a wagon. Dillon McDern and his sons used his oxen to haul the logs up the hill to the castle where more men labored to cut and split the wood.
He found Hadrian splitting logs near the stockade gate. He was naked to the waist except for the small silver medallion that dangled from his neck as he bent forward to place another wedge. He had a solid sweat worked up along with a sizeable pile of wood.
“Been meddling, have you?” Royce asked, looking around at the hive of activity.