If Not For The Knight by Debbie Boek (romantic love story reading .TXT) 📕

Overlord, and themselves, with such disrespect. They were ready to put these people in their place and show them who their conquerors were, hopefully, for the last time.

 

            

The following morning, the sun was bright but the frigid temperatures kept the villagers subdued. Calder made them wait in the square a suitable period of time before going out to stand at the top of the stairs. His men wore full battle dress. Some were astride their great destriers, circling behind the crowd. The rest of his men formed a semi-circle in front of him, facing the villagers with their hands resting on the hilts of their sheathed swords and a look of deadly intent on their faces.

Draco stood next to him. As always, he wore only a sleeveless jack over his leggings, his mantle thrown over one shoulder as if he had no need of it, even in this bitter cold.

Calder himself wore only chainmail over his tunic and leggings. His heavy fur mantle was wrapped snuggly around him, but could be thrown off instantly should he need more freedom in the event fighting ensured.

“Almost five years ago now, we came to this village and took it back in the name of William, the true King of these lands.” Calder began to pace back and forth along the top of the steps, turning to stare out at the crowd periodically as he did so. There were disgruntled murmurs but, so far, the crowd remained calm.

“King William is a just and fair man. When he took over the throne, he admonished all of his castellans that they were to treat you people as they would villagers from our home country.”

“For cripe’s sake,” one man bellowed, “ye killed half of us afore you even won the lands. And we’ve heard about the murdering you Normans did elsewhere. Killing women and children and leaving most to die of starvation after you burnt their homes and fields. How fair and just is that?”

The man fell to his knees with a woof as he was struck in the kidneys by the flat side of Davis’ sword.

“Do not interrupt me,” Calder said in a quiet tone, but one nevertheless filled with a dangerous promise should he be disobeyed. “King William also instructed his men that any revolt would be quashed quickly and with definite finality. There was to be no question as to who these lands belonged to. That was done, sometimes a little more zealously than may have been necessary,” he added, with a pointed look at the man still on his knees. “But, then, the lesson was learned and, had some ruthlessness not been engaged in, mayhap there would have been more deaths, on both sides.”

“Both my brother and I tried to be reasonable with you. Aric helped you learn better ways to farm and increase your crops. In return, you poisoned him and caused his death. By doing so, you brought me here.”

He stopped pacing and stared down into the crowd. The mumbling was getting louder, but he had not lost control of them yet. “I am trying to build a castle, which will be used for your protection, should there be trouble.

I asked for your help in doing so, you refused, and so I had to force you. I asked that you pay your taxes as decreed by King William and you refused, so I had to force you. In an attempt to hurt me, you stole from yourselves and caused the death of one of my men and many of your own in the process. You have rallied against me at every turn, and still I sat quietly and attempted to be lenient so that we could learn to work and live together.”

The villagers’ grumbling became louder as they scoffed at the thought of Calder being lenient. In their eyes, he ruled with a heavy hand, one that allowed him to take even more from their already meager lives.

“When the castle is completed in the spring, there will be many jobs to fill. The people that fill them will have to consort with me and my men on a daily basis. How will the rest of you treat them, should they choose to take a position with me that will give them more income and, perhaps, more power in the community?”

“I have watched you all terrorize and humiliate one of your own time after time, simply because of her association with me. Last night, a bloodied and beaten young girl was brought to me. She was brutalized by you, her friends and family, simply because she did as I asked and helped save the life of another. It is time for you to look to yourselves and see the poison that festers within you. We are the not the barbarians here. You are.”

The disgust was evident on his face, as well as in his voice now. “I have tried to treat you like fellow human beings. But, again and again, you show me only how shallow and backward you are in your thoughts and in your feelings. Well, I have finally learned all that I needed to from you. You cannot be treated as civilized people. You respond only to brutality and punishment. So be it then.”

The disgruntled murmuring of the crowd grew stronger, but none would call out, not wanting to be singled out by one of the armed knights patrolling so closely to them.

“It ends today!” Calder shouted suddenly at the group. “Any further violence against my men, or anyone who is doing service for me or has an association with me for one reason or another, will be dealt with swiftly and severely. I will no longer tolerate your intolerance. Learn this well, people, for it will not be told to you again.”

He could not miss the hatred in the faces that looked up at him. “Now, go to your homes and cause no more trouble. Should the old hag be sneaked back into town, neither she, nor anyone that helps her, will be shown any mercy. Should you refuse to help me in the spring, when work on the castle resumes, I will immediately banish you from my lands. There are many people who would gladly trade some of their time for the privilege of farming this soil. Remember that, if you think to play me false when next I ask for your assistance.”

 

The mumbling and grumbling raised a notch or two in volume as people began to disband. Calder was just turning toward Draco when a sharp stone suddenly struck him in the cheek. Turning back immediately, Calder saw one of the village men look at them in terror and turn to flee. Draco bounded down the steps before Calder even had a chance to move.

Draco thrust his large body through the crowd and launched himself at the man. Rolling with him on the ground for a moment, knocking the wind out of the smaller, thinner man, he grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and stood up.

“Hang him,” Calder announced as coldly as any executioner ever had.

All hell broke out after his decree. The villagers allowed their pent-up anger and frustration to get the better of them and began to attack Calder's men. They used their hands, homemade weapons they had secretly made and hidden in their tunics, rocks, ice, anything they could lay their hands on. But they were no more successful than they had been the first time Calder and his men arrived on their soil and were easily subdued by the well-trained knights.

Dead and injured villagers littered the ground within minutes, no match for the mighty broadswords swung effortlessly by the knights. Women screamed and cried as they threw themselves on the bodies of their men where they lay in the bloody snow.

Calder, seeing that his men had the situation under control, had not joined in the melee. He was so angry at these people that he was afraid of what he might do to them. He was furious that they had brought the situation to this point, consumed with a deadly rage because they refused to be conquered and submit to his rule.

“What did you hope to accomplish?” he bellowed, his voice filled with loathing and contempt. “Did you really think that you were men enough to defeat my knights? And had you been able to do so, did you not realize that King William would have come down upon you with all of his vengeance, and no one in this village would have survived? Get to your homes now. Leave the dead. They will be buried another time. I will not have any of you in my sight at this moment.”

The injured were helped to their homes and the dead lay where they had fallen.

Seeing that Draco still held the man who had started the whole incident, he called out, “Hang him now. Then take your men and search each home for weapons. Confiscate what you find and bring the owners to the cellar. If you have any trouble, deal with it as you see fit.”

“Yes, Milord,” Draco replied, as he dragged the struggling man along behind him.

 

            

 

“You're awake,” Calder whispered softly, brushing back the limp curls that framed Regan's face. Even her hair seemed to have lost its luster and buoyancy due to her illness.

“Yes,” she responded weakly.

“Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes, much,” she answered. “I am just so tired all the time. I feel as if I have aged twenty years.”

“Sleep will help you, love. Rest as much as you can. Radolf is being well taken care of by Gayle and my men.” With a wry smile, he added, “They are teaching him some interesting new games, and the colorful language that goes into playing them properly.”

Regan smiled at him, groaning in mock despair, then her smile faded as she studied his lined face more closely. “You seem upset, Calder. Is all well?”

He wished that he could share with her what he carried inside; wished he could unburden himself by explaining how frustrated and angry he was at the rest of the people in the village. But it would serve no purpose other than to upset her and delay her recovery.

Being a leader of men, he had learned long ago never to show when he was unsure of himself. It would only cause his men to worry needlessly and lose their respect for his actions and decisions. It was so ingrained in him that