Page 5 of Lord of Misrule

Emeric cleared his throat once more. “My lords? There is a situation that needs to be handled and I’m afraid, it can wait no longer.”

“God’s eyes, what is so important?” asked Tolin.

The monk cleared his throat loudly, a silent reminder that Tolin was cursing. Total blasphemy, no doubt. Just one more thing for Brother Ruford to add to his list when he reported back to Tolin’s father upon his return.

“The castle guard has caught a thief in town trying to steal from him. He wants to know how the offender should be punished,” Emeric relayed the information.

“Well, I’m off to the tavern for a spell. I mean...off to town,” Tolin corrected himself in front of the monk. He stood up and stretched and yawned. Tolin had hoped to be able to find some betting men at the tavern who would appreciate a good game of Tolinoffel so he could continue to test out his new game. Still, he figured he’d better not admit it aloud.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Rook raised a brow.

Tolin looked down at the table. “What? Did I miss a coin?” He stretched his neck and patted the table to double check.

“Nay. I’m sure you’d never forget a coin. I’m talking about the fact that you seem to have forgotten that our father put you in charge of Blake Castle until his return,” Rook reminded him.

“Oh, that. Yes. I didn’t forget. What about it?”

“You can’t leave. You need to decide how to punish the thief.” Rook nodded toward the steward. The guard stood a little ways behind him, blocking their view of the offender.

“He’s right,” said Ruford. “It is your responsibility.”

“Me?” Tolin didn’t want to punish anyone. He was only watching over the castle during the Christmas celebrations to keep things in good order. To control the crowds during the festival and make sure they didn’t run out of sweetmeats or wine. He was there to make sure everyone had a jolly good time. “I’m sure there must be some holy rule that no prisoners can be punished or killed during the holy season. It should wait until my father’s return.”

“No executions can happen during the holy days, but the thief’s future needs to be determined,” Ruford informed him.

“That’s right,” agreed Rook. “We can’t let a thief continue to roam the lands. He could very well end up stealing from us, right here at the castle. Something needs to be done right away.”

“Now wait a minute,” said Tolin with a raised hand. “I decide what we eat and drink during Christmastide and how many musicians will play at the celebrations. It’s my job to make sure couples embrace under the kissing bough and dance until morning. I am in charge of food and entertainment only. Father told me that I am in charge until Twelfth Night. However, I must point out, he said nothing, and I repeat nothing, about holding court or trials. Or handing out sentences of any kind. I don’t really think I’m qualified to do that.”

“Nay, not so,” Rook objected. “You need to handle every aspect of every matter in Father’s absence. Including thieves. Now, tell the guard what to do about it.” Rook stretched out his arm with his palm up, forcing Tolin’s attention toward the steward. “Make a decision, Tolin. This is all up to you.”

“Nay. You do it.” Tolin shook his head, wanting nothing more than to leave and head for the tavern. He never agreed to something like this. It wasn’t what he was good at. He liked to stick with things where he knew he could exceed.

“No, I will not. This is all on you now, Tolin,” Rook stubbornly announced, even though he had much more experience with these kinds of things. “After all, if you are ever lucky enough to have your own manor house or castle someday, you’ll need to learn how to run it. So, start practicing now.”

“I don’t know.” Tolin looked down at his cards, shoving them into the pouch at his side. Only pride kept him from turning and running right now. He loved his freedom and having no ties to anything other than his knightly vows and loyalty in fighting for his king. But this was different. He didn’t know nor did he care what the guard did with the petty thief. To him, this was of no importance.

“My lord?” Both the steward and the guard stared at him now. So did Brother Ruford and Rook. He felt heat building up inside him. Normally Tolin liked being the center of attention. But that was when he sparred on the practice field with the other knights, played cards with his friends, or even danced with a pretty woman. This was not the type of attention he liked at all. He didn’t need it and certainly didn’t want it. Still, he had accepted the responsibility, talking his father into letting him run the castle in his absence and he really didn’t want to let him down.

“Tolin? He needs an answer.” Rook’s prodding was like a knife twisting in the wound.

“I don’t really care what happens to the thief. Just put him in the dungeon until Lord Corbett returns,” Tolin told the steward, thinking it would now be over. He abruptly turned to go now that he’d made his decision.

“Nay! Please, my lord, don’t do that.” A woman in a cloak with her head covered, stepped out from behind the guard, holding the hand of a young boy who couldn’t be more than seven or eight years of age. She rushed over to the trestle table where he’d played cards and kneeled down in front of him. The girl lowered her head, staring at the floor when she spoke. “Please, my lord, don’t put him in the dungeon. He never meant to steal.”

Tolin and Rook exchanged confused glances. Who were this woman and child and why were they here?

“He? Do you mean him?” Tolin nodded at the child.

“This is the thief? This young boy?” Rook chuckled lowly, enjoying the fact that Tolin’s life just got worse.

“Yes, my lords.” The guard hurried over to join them. “When I took the wagon to town for supplies for the holiday celebration, I caught the miscreant lad trying to lift my sword.”

“Really?” asked Tolin, in just as much shock as Rook. “Is this true?” The thought of the thief being a child almost made him laugh aloud. But seeing the serious looks on everyone else’s faces, he decided he’d better bite his tongue instead.

“It is true that my son lifted the sword,” said the woman. “But it isn’t what you think.”

“Your son?” Tolin eyed up the woman kneeling at his feet. He couldn’t see her well beneath her hooded cloak, but he surmised that she barely seemed old enough to have a son that was eight or nine. “Tell me, I’m curious,” he continued. “What exactly is it that I think?”