Читать книгу Bound to the Warrior - Barbara Phinney - Страница 15

Chapter Six

Ediva thrust herself forward, only to be blocked by Adrien. She tried to push him away, but his frame refused her.

“He has come to steal our money, he means!” she spat out.

“We will always have taxes, my lady,” Adrien growled. “You paid them before without a fuss.”

“To an English king, not some Norman Duke from across the channel!”

Adrien shoved his face closer to hers. “Go to your solar, Ediva! I will handle my brother.”

“This is my keep also, Adrien,” she snapped. “Should I not have a say in what monies are stolen from it?”

“You knew this day was coming.” Abruptly, he hauled her close, his face a mere breath from hers. She stilled and looked hard into his eyes. But as she was learning, there was no harshness reflected there.

But that brought no comfort. Aye, she knew this day would come. She knew she’d lost her position as the keep’s full owner. But neither tempered her anger.

Adrien loosened his hold. “Allow me to handle this, or you risk losing far more coins. I will not allow one mite more than necessary to be taken. But you must not challenge the king’s authority.” He dropped his voice. “Go. And trust me.”

She stepped back. Did she dare trust him? Rather, did she dare refuse? If King William learned of her defiance, what punishment would be in store for her and her tenants? Perhaps she could trust her husband—with this, for now. She tossed a scathing look at the surprised Eudo before pivoting on her heel and returning to the keep.

In her solar, she fumed to Margaret, the only available ear, about the king from across the channel.

“What’s a channel?” Margaret asked.

Ediva sighed. The young girl had no education save the one she’d learned from her mother—to sew and care for her lady, to braid hair and tidy rooms and do her lady’s bidding. She knew nothing of the lands beyond her county.

Ediva waved her hand. “The waters between England and Normandy. William was born there and ’twas there he says the throne of England was promised him. Now he has stolen our lands and demands the taxes.”

“If the king is here to take the money, Lord Adrien will surely give it, won’t he?”

“That’s not the king down there, girl!” Ediva was usually patient with her, but not today. She stopped her pacing, knowing there was no one in this keep with whom she could properly vent. “That man is Eudo, the king’s steward, younger brother to your Lord Adrien.”

“Then as brothers they will settle this, milady. Blood is thicker than water.”

“Aye.” Ediva sank into her chair, hating that she could not be downstairs but unwilling to risk trouble. Or did she actually trust Adrien? “They will settle this, but to Dunmow’s benefit?”

Her maid began to tidy the mess Ediva had caused with her rant. “I have four brothers, and they’re as thick as thieves.” As soon as she spoke, the girl cringed. “’Twas just an expression, milady! Lord Adrien will do what’s right. He’s only seen a few Sabbaths here, but even my father says he’s a good man. He’ll keep us safe.”

Ediva jumped up. “That’s my task, not his. I should give the taxes to the king.” She brushed down her cyrtel and fixed her veil, even setting her skewed braids back into place, as her ire rose again. “And I will know just how many coins my husband hands over. Every last one.”

She threw open her door.

Adrien had set a guard by her door, but the man shrank away when she shot him a deadly look. “I will see my husband, and no one will stop me.”

The man backed off as she stormed past. She found Adrien and Eudo with several other men, including Geoffrey, in the main hall. They were swarming over the strongbox, while Geoffrey held a quill above the ledger.

Each man glanced up as she entered. With her back so stiff it hurt, she marched over. “I will know what is planned for the contents of Dunmow’s coffers,” she told Adrien bluntly. “It cannot be construed as an insult to the king for me to know how much is being taken.”

“His majesty has the right to take as much as he pleases. The keep belongs to him,” Adrien answered.

“’Tis my home, though, and I have run it well since Ganute’s death. The king can have no complaint, as it is my good management that filled the coffers he now seeks to empty.”

“The king has no complaint against you, woman,” Eudo announced, folding his arms. “He merely expects you to pay your taxes.”

After a sharp glance at the coins stacked on the table, she leaned forward to press her knuckles into the battered wood. She eyed Eudo darkly. “But must my people and I be forced into poverty?”

She could hardly believe her ears. She’d never sounded so defiant, but this was about her keep.

She could feel her husband’s heavy gaze upon her skin. If necessary, she would justify her words to him later in private. Lifting her chin, she met Eudo’s eyes as regally as she could. “I demand to know how much the king chooses to take. And I deserve to know exactly where ’twill be used.”

Eudo stiffened. “How the king uses his money is his own business.”

“How strange then that he needs to send the very brother of his servant here, a man whose duty is only to fill the king’s cup and serve his food. Aye, you may be capable of handling the monies, but I suspect the king sent you because of your good rapport with my husband, and—” she lifted her brows “—because he has also ordered you to build a castle in Colchester, not far away. And so thus, you need the money.”

Slowly, the steward smiled until a short chuckle escaped from his widening lips, proving to Ediva he was merely testing her, something that irked her further. “I can see why you fear for your life, Pra—Adrien,” he said in a surprisingly merry tone. “I’m thankful she had no bow up on the parapet when I entered. I might not be standing here right now.”

That remark’s meaning was lost on Ediva, so she ignored it. She spun the record book around as Geoffrey jumped back. The last line had not yet been completed, but a note above it stated that some men and tools were also leaving.

She gasped, hardly believing what was written. “He will take our men, as well?”

“Aye,” Adrien answered coolly. “And if you’d stayed in your solar, I would have told you all this.”

She smacked the table, actually making the two guards jump. “We cannot spare the men! ’Twill soon be time to plant! And with the threat of revolt in Anglia, they will need to be available to defend this keep!”

“I will leave one soldier for every three men I take,” Eudo promised. “And the tradesmen in the village are hardly farmers, Ediva, so do not tell me of their need to plant.”

“You know nothing of our ways. All farm here, Lord Eudo—tenants, tradesmen and even the chaplain if they expect to eat next winter,” she snapped. “But one man for three! The number is far too small. Even if you left a soldier for every man you took, do you expect your soldiers will know the work to be done here? Do they know how to farm, or shoe horses or sheer sheep? Those skills are needed here.”

“The soldiers will defend your keep, and with two-thirds fewer mouths to feed, I would say you’d be glad to see the trade.”

Immediately, Adrien set his hand upon hers to stop her from smacking the table again. His palm was warm, rough, strong and was successful in stilling any movement that was aimed to insult Eudo. “Ediva, arguing will do no good. Eudo is borrowing some of the men to move rubble, ’tis all.”

“He can use the king’s soldiers.”

“The soldiers must stay here. The king considers this keep too important to leave its guard to your men. ’Twill only be for the spring and summer.”

She could hardly believe her ears. “The work will fall back on the women, and some will give birth soon. Many are still nursing babes!”

“Have faith.”

“In what? Faith and an empty cup won’t fill a belly. We need our men.” She turned to Eudo earnestly. “Three to one is an unacceptable ratio. Two men for one soldier.”

Eudo lost his smile. “I will be taking twenty men and leaving six.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you think I’m a foolish maid who doesn’t know her numbers? ’Tis even less than the three to one trade you promised!” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “Leave me ten and take eighteen.”

Eudo glanced at his brother. Adrien remained smugly silent to his brother’s plight.

With a lifted brow, the steward said, “Hardly a two to one exchange, either. Do you think that I don’t know my numbers? I will leave you seven.”

“Leave me ten, and I promise you that they will be returned to you fitter and stronger than when you left them.” Ediva lifted the corners of her mouth slightly. “Adrien will ensure they continue their training. A more than fair exchange, sir, to receive back finer soldiers than you left us. You will do the king proud, I can assure you.”

Eudo leaned across the table. Ediva did the same. They very nearly touched noses. She’d listened to Ganute barter many times for the things he wanted. She knew her numbers well, and more important, she knew the skill of persuasion. When the steward began to frown, she offered him her most charming smile. “I will take very good care of them, sir. ’Twould hardly be in my interest not to do so.”

Abruptly, Eudo laughed as he straightened. “Ah, the head of an exchequer and the wiles of a siren. You have your hands full here, my brother. Very well, woman, I will leave you ten men.”

“And two runners, should we need to send for you.” She smiled sweetly. “You’ll want to know if we’re attacked and the king’s holdings are in danger, will you not?”

Eudo grimaced. “Very well. But the two runners will be squires. I won’t leave one more man here.”

She straightened and shut the record book with a slam, causing Geoffrey to pull back his quill lest it be jammed inside. Adrien chuckled and shook his head.

But Ediva saw no humor in the situation. “There is nothing funny here, my lord.” She thrust the record book at Geoffrey. “Lock it and the coffers before we lose it all. We must see about feeding these men as I have promised, so I want a full inventory of the foodstuffs.”

With a deep bow, Geoffrey took the book and the box and exited. She lifted her chin. “Excuse me, my lords, whilst I see to the noon meal.”