Page 3 of Lord of Misrule

Chapter 2

Lord Tolin Blake glanced over the top of his cards, eyeing up each of the players sitting at the trestle table in the great hall. He was usually good at deciphering what kind of hands they held. Six of them played a card game he’d invented. Tolin liked games. A lot. He was competitive and didn’t tolerate losing. This game was his lucky charm, and so far today he’d won every hand.

“It’s your turn, Rook,” said Tolin, recognizing the frustrated curve of his older brother’s brows. Rook wasn’t good at hiding his emotions. He was always so serious and needed to learn to relax more and actually have fun. Tolin lived for fun, not getting caught up in all the troubles that his father or brother always seemed to focus upon. “We don’t have all day,” he taunted him.

“Brother, I don’t think we are setting a good example by gambling during Advent,” complained Rook. His eyes scanned the room of onlookers. “It is bad enough that you’ve promoted drinking during a time that is meant for fasting. Next, you’ll be eating meat before the required fasting time is over.”

“Oh, ease up, Rook,” scoffed Tolin, never being one to follow rules. Even if they were from the church. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and the required fasting is over then anyway. In my opinion, we’re close enough. Now lay down your card and stop worrying so much. Focus on the game.”

“Fine.” Rook’s hand wavered between two cards. Then he threw down a card and released a deep puff of air from his mouth. “Three of acorns.”

“Three of acorns?” Tolin eyed the card and chuckled. “Seriously? Brother, that is truly a pathetic move.”

“Stop it,” grumbled Rook, his eyes glancing back and forth to the onlookers once more. Tolin’s older brother always seemed to worry what everyone around them might be thinking. Rook cared too much about the opinions of others. Tolin on the other hand, couldn’t care less.

“Even a girl can beat that!” Tolin continued, looking over at his sister, the only female playing cards. “Go ahead, Raven. Show up your twin brother. I know you can do it.”

“Convincing a woman who is now a mother to play your silly game during Advent has got to be the worst idea ever,” Rook continued to complain.

“Stop fussing. I agreed to it, Brother,” said Raven, studying her cards.

“So did I, but Tolin more or less threatened me if I didn’t play,” spoke up the youngest of the brothers, Daegel. “You know, if Father were here, he’d make you abide by the Advent rules.”

“And if Mother were here, she’d be on Tolin’s side.” Raven’s mouth curved up into a sly smile. She was just as competitive as Tolin—a trait that was not normally found in girls. Then again, Raven wasn’t your usual female. “I’ll play the queen of horses,” said Raven proudly, gingerly placing her card atop the others. It was a card depicting a queen riding atop a horse, holding a sword in the air. “I think it is fitting since I’m good with a horse as well as a blade.”

Raven wasn’t one of those helpless women. She was independent and skilled with weapons. Tolin’s sister could best most men on the practice field and was proud of it. However, since birthing a baby seven months ago she didn’t have a sword in her hand as much anymore. Instead, she could usually be found in the ladies’ solar with a needle and thread in her grip. Or playing with her daughter with some of the other mothers and their children. Raven was truly embracing motherhood lately. Even though she married the blacksmith, Jonathon, they were in love. Raven surprised Tolin by really seeming to be enjoying having a child. There wasn’t a day that went by that she wasn’t telling Tolin or the rest of her brothers what her perfect daughter, little Sparrow, had learned to do. Rook’s son, Beowulf, was the same age as Sparrow. However, Rook’s wife Rose never bragged about their child.

“Well, I’m out,” spat Daegel, not bothering to throw down his cards face up. Daegel folded his arms over his chest and looked like he was pouting. He’d come in last place every round.

“Daegel, stop fretting,” said Tolin, busying himself by rearranging the cards he held close to his chest. “You’re going to be dubbed a knight soon and need to start showing a little more pride and honor in everything you do. Like me.”

“Like who?” spat Rook, nearly choking on his own spit at hearing that. “Pride, yes, but honor? You? Seriously? Don’t make me laugh, Tolin.” Rook made a face and ran his hand through his long, black hair, smoothing it back.

“If Brother Ruford sees me playing cards and drinking during Advent, I might not be dubbed a knight after all,” worried Daegel.

“Our father’s uncle is at the monastery where he belongs and not here, so don’t even think twice about it,” Tolin tried to reassure him. “Besides, he is in charge of St. Basil’s, but I am in charge of Blake Castle until Father returns. So I make the rules until then.”

Rook wanted to tell him it doesn’t work that way, but whatever his warning, it was sure to fall on deaf ears. Tolin did things his own way and always had. No silly rules were ever going to change that.

Tolin, Rook, and Daegel all looked so similar that there was no doubt they were brothers. Black hair and blue eyes were a common trait of a Blake. Even so, Tolin thought he was the handsomest of the three. After all, the females were always following him around, wanting him to pay them special attention. And he usually did.

Rook held Tolin’s eye and spoke. “Being honorable, little brother, doesn’t mean breaking holy rules or inventing silly card games that you are sure to win. Games with stupid names like Awful.”

Now it was Tolin’s turn to make a face. “Rook, you don’t even know the name of the game you play. It’s called Tolinoffel, named after the oldest card game known to man, Karnöffle. Not Awful. Get it right.”

“All right,” said Rook. “Tolin Awful.” He smiled sarcastically.

“Tolin’s awful, I agree,” muttered Daegel, covering his face with his hands. Daegel had always idolized Rook and wanted to be just like him. Tolin, on the other hand, wanted to be as different from Rook as he possibly could.

“Excuse me, my lords and lady.” Emeric, the castle steward, stopped at their table in the great hall and bowed.

“What is it, Emeric?” asked Raven, standing in as lady of the castle in their mother’s absence.

“Henry the guard wishes an audience with you. He says it is important.”

“Hold on.” Tolin raised his hand in the air. “It can wait. I still need to play my last card.”

“Tolin, I have the queen of horses. Face it, it’s over. I won,” said Raven, sounding overly confident. “Accept the fact that someone finally beat you at your own game.”