“Break it up! Break it up!” bellowed a large muscular man making his way through the crowd. He had a bull neck, a full dark beard, and a balding head. “Back to work, all of ya!”
The crowd groaned in displeasure but quickly quieted down as two horsemen approached. They rode down the hill, coming from the manor at a trot.
“What’s going on here?” the lead rider asked, reining his horse. He was a middle-aged man with weary eyes and a strong chin. He dressed in light tailored linens common to a favored servant and on his chest was an embroidered crest of crossed daggers in gold threading.
“Strangers, sir,” the loud bull-necked man replied.
“They ain’t strangers, sir.” Armigil spoke up. “This here’s Haddy Blackwater, son of the old village smith—come fer a visit.”
“Thank you, Armigil,” he said. “But I wasn’t speaking to you. I was addressing the reeve.” He looked down at the bearded man. “Well, Osgar, out with it.”
The burly man shrugged his shoulders and stroked his beard, looking uncomfortable. “She might be right, sir. I haven’t had a chance to ask, what with getting the villeins back to work and all.”
“Very well, Osgar, see to it that they return to work, or I’ll have you in stocks by nightfall.”
“Yes, sir, right away, sir.” He turned, bellowing at the villagers until they moved off. Only Armigil and Dunstan quietly remained behind.
“Are you the son of the old smithy?” the rider asked.
“I am,” Hadrian replied. “And you are?”
“I’m His Lordship’s bailiff. It’s my duty to keep order in this village and I don’t appreciate you disrupting the villeins’ work.”
“My apologies, sir.” Hadrian nodded respectfully. “I didn’t mean—”
“If you’re the smithy’s son, where have you been?” The other rider spoke this time. Much younger-looking, he was better dressed than the bailiff, wearing a tunic of velvet and linen. His legs were covered in opaque hose, and his feet in leather shoes with brass buckles. “Are you aware of the penalty for leaving the village without permission?”
“I’m the son of a freeman, not a villein,” Hadrian declared. “And who are you?”
The rider sneered at Hadrian. “I’m the imperial envoy to this village, and you would be wise to watch the tone of your voice. Freemen can lose that privilege easily.”
“Again, my apologies,” Hadrian said. “I’m only here to visit my father’s grave. He died while I was away.”
The envoy’s eyes scanned Royce and Arista, then settled on Hadrian, looking him over carefully. “Three swords?” he asked the bailiff. “In this time of war an able-bodied man like this should be in the army fighting for the empress. He’s likely a deserter or a rogue. Arrest him, Siward, and take his associates in for questioning. If he hasn’t committed any crimes, he will be properly pressed into the imperial army.”
The bailiff looked at the envoy with annoyance. “I don’t take my orders from you, Luret. You forget that all too frequently. If you have a problem, take it up with the steward. I’m certain he will speak to His Lordship the moment he returns from loyal service to the empire. In the meantime, I’ll administer this village as best I can for my lord—not for you.”
Luret jerked himself upright in indignation. “As imperial envoy, I am addressed as Your Excellency. And you should understand that my authority comes directly from the empress.”
“I don’t care if it comes from the good lord Maribor himself. Unless His Lordship, or the steward in his absence, orders me otherwise, I only have to put up with you. I don’t have to take orders from you.”
“We’ll see about that.” The envoy spun and spurred his horse back toward the manor, kicking up a cloud of dust.
The bailiff shook his head with irritation, waiting for the dust to settle.
“Don’t worry,” he told them. “The steward won’t listen to him. Danbury Blackwater was a good man. If you’re anything like him, you’ll find me a friend. If not, you had best make your stay here as short as possible. Keep out of trouble. Don’t interfere with the villeins’ work, and stay away from Luret.”
“Thank you, sir,” Hadrian said.
The bailiff then looked around the village in irritation. “Armigil, where did the reeve get off to?”
“Went to the east field, I think, sir. There is a team he has working on drainage up that way.”
The bailiff sighed. “I need him to get more men working on bringing in the hay. Rain’s coming and it’ll ruin what’s been cut if he doesn’t.”
“I’ll tell him, sir, if he comes back this way.”
“Thank you, Armigil.”
“Sir?” She tapped off a pint of beer and handed it up to him. “While you’re here, sir?” He took one swallow, then poured the rest out and tossed her back the cup.
“A little weak,” he said. “Set your price at two copper tenents a pint.”