There before her was James, the Earl's right hand man. Engaged in a hot debate with the smith, James looked every bit the passionate, unscrupulous rogue he was known to be. No one really knew why the Earl kept him around. He was a dangerous character, whose temper had more than once landed his lord in bed with broken bones. Some said the Earl was afraid to cross him. Others said that if anything ever happened to James, the Earl would lose control of his fief, since he was loved little better than his henchman.
There he stood, the Earl's violent representative, arguing vociferously with the blacksmith. But Genica could gather no idea of what they were fighting about. Apparently they had been at it for some time, for they had descended to the level of name calling. Roaring with laughter, the whole crowd was heedless of the risk their smith was taking. On occasion, such insults resulted in devastating retaliations. But the Earl was inconsistent and there was a chance that the smith might go unscathed. Breathlessly, Genica strained her ears for a clue to what incited such vituperation. She tugged on the nearest sleeve.
"Philip, what's going on?"
"Oho, the smith repaired some dagger and failed to report it to his lordship," replied the farmer, still laughing and wiping his eyes.
"Why should he have reported it?" Genica asked.
"Seems his lordship's dungeon yielded forth a dangerous criminal and the knife belonged to him. The Earl has been tearing earth and sky apart to find the man."
Genica's pallor would have betrayed her had old Philip been less distracted. Quickly she turned away. When her errands were complete, she did not linger, as she usually did, to visit and chat and partake of the village grapevine.
No comments:
Post a Comment