Page 6 of Lord of Misrule

The distraught woman continued. “Parker was curious, nothing more. He wanted to feel the sword’s weight, not to steal it. Honest, it’s the truth. Have pity on him, my lord. He is just a boy.” The woman slowly lifted her face. When she did, the hood of her cloak fell back. Sunlight from the window bathed her tanned skin. The rays fell upon her long oaken hair that was twisted into a loose knot at the back of her head. Some of the strands had spilled free and now fell across her face. A powdery white streak was smeared over her cheek. The woman’s eyes glowed with the color of acorns, much like the ones painted on Tolin’s deck of playing cards. The only difference was that her eyes looked glassy and filled with tears. For some reason, his heart went out to her.

“What should be the thief’s punishment, my lord?” The guard asked once again. “Did you still want me to imprison him? Or mayhap a good lashing would teach the boy a lesson not to steal again. Or did you mayhap want something more severe?”

“More severe?” repeated Tolin, thinking of how the child would cry to feel the sting of a whip against his fragile skin.

“Nay! Please, don’t hurt him. He’s just a child. I beg you, let the boy go.” The woman pulled her son to her bosom, clutching him protectively, acting like a lioness defending her cub.

Tolin’s eyes traveled back to his brother hoping Rook would give him some insight on how to handle this odd situation. Of course, Rook didn’t.

“Well, good luck,” whispered Rook with a nod of his head, quickly turning and walking away. Tolin squeezed his eyes shut and slowly opened them again, feeling doomed and trapped. He couldn’t believe his own brother would do this to him, leaving him in such a position. Rook was a poor example of a helpful brother. After all, Rook was the eldest and also had his own manor. He was used to these types of things, Tolin wasn’t. Surely, this decision would be easy for Rook to handle. He was probably still just being a sore loser from the card game and this was his way of retaliating. He looked back at Brother Ruford. The monk stuck his hands in his cassock, seeming to close his eyes in prayer. No help here either.

“My lord?” asked Henry yet again. “What is to be the boy’s punishment for trying to steal from a castle guard?”

Tolin hated this more than anything. He didn’t like making decisions unless they directly affected him. And he didn’t like women begging at his feet unless it involved pleasures in the bedchamber. He honestly didn’t know what to do.

If he didn’t punish the boy, he would seem weak in front of everyone, including his brothers. Tolin never cared what people thought of him, but for some reason, with the boy’s mother present, this time he kind of did. Letting the little thief get away with this would also send the message to the rest of the commoners that it was all right to steal from guards and even nobles. Tolin’s father wouldn’t like that in the least. Nay, he couldn’t just dismiss the situation even though he wished it was that easy. He’d have to hand out some kind of sentence, he had no other choice. However, he couldn’t give the command to hurt the child or throw him in the dungeon either. Parker was just a young boy and would never survive that! Tolin wasn’t a cold-hearted bastard. He didn’t want to hurt the child, he wanted to protect him, just like his mother was doing. But this boy was a thief.

The boy’s mother was still on her knees with tears running down her cheeks. Tolin looked around for Raven to help him, but she’d already left the great hall with her crying baby. Raven would have his head if he did anything to harm a child. Now that she was a mother, she’d been acting as fierce protecting not only her own daughter but the children of any of their family members. Just this morning she was even helping protect the children of the servants as the young ones played in the courtyard. They had chased a ball and got in the way of the mounted guards as they headed out on their rounds. Raven flung herself in front of the horses and ordered the men to stop. Then she collected up the children and huddled with them as she openly shouted at the men for their carelessness. This was something that he’d never seen her do before.

“Please, I beg you once again, my good lord. I will do anything you wish if you spare my son from being punished.” The woman kneeling before him sounded desperate. Tolin didn’t like to see anyone beg.

He drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. His eyes quickly scanned the room. Every occupant in the great hall watched and listened even though they pretended not to be paying attention.

“Get up,” he told the woman in a deep growl. “Stand up and face me instead of groveling at my feet like a dog. That act is pathetic, even for a commoner such as yourself.”

When she did nothing to move, Tolin reached out and took her arm, yanking her to her feet. She wore the clothes of a peasant and he figured she lived in town. The rough wool of her gown felt scratchy to his touch. Her simple dress was covered by a white apron that had a bib that traveled up and over her curvy breasts. Even clothed in this manner, she appeared to be a comely wench. At any rate, she was a relatively clean one who shouldn’t be on her knees on the floor. Her skin looked smooth and silky. It took everything in his power not to reach out and rub his fingers across her cheek to find out if he was correct. The woman’s hair was mussed but clean. It smelled like fresh bread, if he wasn’t mistaken. Bread. Mmmm. His stomach growled at the thought. Since he’d slept late this morning he’d missed the meal to break the fast. Now all he could think of was food.

“Don’t cry,” he told her, not liking to see a woman so upset. He was a gentleman through and through, no matter if his siblings thought of him as naught but a scoundrel or a philanderer. Tolin strived to make women smile. If there was a female frowning in the room, then he wasn’t putting his charm to good use and doing his job. Feeling bold as usual, he reached out and brushed away her tears with his thumb. An isolated gasp resonated from the quiet room behind him. The silence served as nothing more than a reminder that he was a noble and she a mere peasant from town. Perhaps he shouldn’t have touched her in such a familiar manner. Or at least not in front of half the castle. “You have white powder on your face. What is it?” He made a big show of rubbing his fingers together, hopefully convincing everyone watching that he was reprimanding her for coming to the castle looking unkempt or dusty.

Her hand flew to cover her cheek. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry, my lord. It must be flour. I own a bakery shop in town and we’ve been very busy lately.”

“You own a shop?” He cocked his head, not believing how brash she was being by saying this aloud. “Woman, you will refer to yourself as the wife of the baker from now on, as is proper. I do not think your husband would care to hear you claiming his business as your own. No woman has the right to do so.”

“You are wrong, my lord,” she said, raising her chin slightly, meeting his challenge. Her bottom lip quivered but she stared straight at him and kept her gaze steady. “I do have the right to claim the shop as my own. You see, I am a widow. My husband was in the Baker’s Guild, and the law clearly states that the store reverts to me now that he is deceased.”

Tolin pressed his lips together in thought and nodded slightly. This was something he hadn’t expected in the least. Impressive. Most men would be appalled by this woman’s audacity, even if what she said was the truth. He, on the other hand, found her defensive nature rather refreshing. Intriguing. Her actions excited him. Oddly, Tolin found himself impressed by this woman’s strength, especially as she was naught but a commoner. He supposed having a sister who was bold and strong, and also very opinionated and acted like a man at times, made him used to seeing a woman behave outside the expected way. But Raven was an exception. And she only got away with it because she was the only daughter of a well-known and well-liked lord.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” said the woman in a mere whisper. Her gaze lowered to his feet. Tolin was sure she regretted her words as they might have angered him, and also put her son at risk for a stricter sentence. “Please, forgive me.”

Tolin chuckled. “Well, that all depends.”

Her eyes snapped upward. “On what, my lord?”

“On if you are any good.” Tolin raised a brow, toying with her, letting his eyes rake down her body. He swore he saw her tremble. Still, she proudly held her composure.

“My lord, what exactly do you mean?” Her face blushed and she looked away, not able to let their eyes interlock. The boy stayed still and silent at her side. The guard and the steward shifted their weight back and forth uncomfortably. Brother Ruford swayed his weight from one foot to another as well, quietly mumbling a prayer. Tolin liked this game between he and the woman, and wasn’t about to let it end so soon.

“What do you think I mean?” he asked her.

She swallowed forcefully, looking as if she were biting the inside of her cheek, keeping herself from saying something she might regret later. “I am sure I don’t know, my lord,” she answered.

“Then let me tell you.”

“My lord, perhaps it would be better if—” The steward was cut short when Tolin raised his hand to silence the man.

“I am curious if you are any good...at baking,” Tolin blurted out, and smiled widely when he saw the woman release a relieved breath. “I want to know if you are experienced in the kitchen. Did you perhaps think I was referring to your skills in a different room instead?”

Her face slowly lifted. She looked at him from the corner of her eyes, shocking him with her answer. “Would you like to find out for yourself how good I am, my lord?” Mischief danced in her eyes, making her even more attractive. And alluring.