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“Put them on your list, with the soap.”
She smiled. “And candles,” she added, then sighed, “and so much more. Everything is destroyed. Everything.”
“Your gown isn’t.”
“There is a hidey hole in your bedchamber, my lord. Lisle had hidden some of Lady Anne’s clothing there.”
“Is your belly full?”
“Oh aye. It’s a fine thing.”
He tur
ned to Aleric. “The king needs to know of our plight. Have Hobbs ride back to London tomorrow and speak to Robert Burnell. He recites accounts accurately, he is fluent, even when he has drunk enough to piss full a lake. We must have soldiers to guard Wareham against this Black Demon should he decide to come again to search for the silver. I am hopeful the king will agree and send us some men.”
How she had heard him from at least twenty feet away, Garron had no idea, but not an instant later, Miggins shouted, “Tupper believes we can call upon Lord Severin of Oxborough for aid. ’Tis wealthy he is, with land and men and goods. He’s closer than London. He did not like Lord Arthur, but he doesn’t know you, my lord.”
“Aye, he does,” Garron called back.
“Does he hate ye?”
“No, he does not. I will consider this, thank you, Miggins.” But he knew he needed the king, his backing and protection.
He wiped his knife on his tunic as he said to Merry, “How long was Lord Arthur dead before the Black Demon came?”
Garron didn’t miss her quick look toward Miggins, who promptly shouted, “Four days, my lord.”
Tupper called out, “Aye, barely four days. We buried him with all honor, my lord, all his men surrounding his grave.”
“Few wept,” Miggins said with no hesitation at all since she knew she had an old retainer’s privilege. “Lord Arthur abused Lady Anne, and all liked her.”
His brother abused his wife? He’d known about his brother’s rages, but he hadn’t known his brother was the kind of man who hurt women, though many thought nothing of striking those weaker than them. So, he’d been dead four days before the Retribution. Garron wondered if the Black Demon would have killed and destroyed even if he’d managed to find the silver. Probably so.
What his brother had or hadn’t done, none of it mattered at this moment. What mattered was Wareham. Garron looked out again over his great hall, and felt suddenly blessed. Since people’s bellies were full, it meant once again there’d be life to live and friends to argue with. There was noise. But no children.
Garron would speak to his men later. He wanted them to go among the people and find out which children were taken by this Black Demon. They would try to find them. He also wanted to visit all the graves, make certain all were properly marked. And Arthur’s grave, he thought, he wanted to visit his brother’s grave.
He asked Merry, “Did the Black Demon disturb my brother’s grave?”
There was a moment of stark silence. Merry looked perfectly blank.
“I forgot,” Garron said, “you were, after all, in the jakes.”
It was Tupper who called out, “The Black Demon paid no attention to the cemetery. His soldiers did not touch any of the graves.”
Garron said, “The king told me Lord Arthur’s men said that my brother died suddenly, with no lingering illness, with no warning at all.”
Miggins said, “ ’ Tis so. There was naught anyone could do. He was eating a lovely stew of hare, fava beans, and cauliflower when suddenly he stiffened in his chair and his face fell into his trencher. All saw he was dead. There was naught anyone could do.”
Garron fell silent, wondering at the vagaries of fate and man. How did you know of this man’s silver, Arthur? How did you manage to steal it? How did you keep it a secret? Arthur’s master-at-arms, Elkins, was dead, killed in the fighting, he’d been told, before he could be tortured. Surely he’d known of the silver, surely he’d helped Arthur steal it. A cache of silver coins would be impossible for one man to handle.
Miggins, boar grease slicking her face, sidled up to him, and grinned hugely, showing the few remaining teeth in her mouth. “Is your belly happy, my lord?”
“It is.”
“Iffen ye have money, my lord, Merry can buy all the provisions we’ll need at Winthorpe. Ye surely remember, Winthorpe is a goodly sized town right on the coast, so the trading is brisk. She said we must buy wheat for bread. And since our miller died, we must find a new man and rebuild the millhouse. We must plant seeds for vegetables and find young fruit trees to plant. We must have cloth, or wool to weave into cloth. Borran, our weaver, is alive, thank Saint Whisken’s bonny head of hair. What say you?”
“I say if there is enough meat to last for a couple of days, then we will travel to Winthorpe in the morning. Merry, I will even buy some parchment and ink so you may make formal lists.” Garron paused a moment. “I have trained my memory to keep my lists in my head, a skill you should learn.”
