“I journeyed to Scotland with Fergus and Duncan, for Fergus will claim Killairic and wed his betrothed this coming spring. I thought it an opportunity to see what had happened at Haynesdale.”
“Did they know of your intent?”
Bartholomew shook his head. “I did not know what I would find. In a way, I hoped that all would be well here and there would be no need to avenge my parents. In another, I yearned to set matters to rights. Either way, I had to discover the truth before I could try to make a change.” The younger man finished cleaning his boots and cast a glance over the forest. “I did not truly remember it, not until we were here. Cenric reminded me of Whitefoot. When Anna took us to the old burn, I remembered the keep and my mother. I have always had nightmares of fire and pain, but her tale fills the gaps.”
“What will you do now?”
Bartholomew met his gaze. “I will petition the king. I expect Henry has gone back to Anjou, which is near Gaston’s holding.”
“Perhaps your friend will vouch for your character.”
“Perhaps he will, but there remains the fact that Royce yet lives.”
“And the need for coin. Will your friend be of aid in that?”
Bartholomew smiled and shook his head. “He has been very kind to me, Father Ignatius. From Gaston, I have my spurs, my blade, my armor, my destrier.”
“Your understanding of how a knight should be and your code of honor.”
“Aye. He has given me the wealth of a king in that, and he is not as wealthy as a king.”
Father Ignatius braced his elbows upon his knees and put the tips of his fingers together. “What if the coin for the escheat could be found?”
“Found?” Bartholomew echoed.
“I know that Sir Royce will dispatch his taxes to the exchequer of the king in the next few days.”
“Surely you do not suggest a theft, Father Ignatius.”
“I am not certain I would call it a theft, if indeed his messengers were divested of their burden.”
“Indeed?”
“Indeed.” Father Ignatius held Bartholomew’s gaze. “Taxes are gathered from the villagers and those dependent upon the baron.”
“Once paid, they no longer belong to the one who surrendered them.”
“But they are paid for services due from the baron. We pay for the right of security in our homes, for the keeping of knights to defend us, for the establishment of courts to ensure that justice is served in the holding, for a Christmas feast at the baron’s table in reciprocity. The knights of Haynesdale do not defend the villagers. Truly, they prey upon them. And I cannot recall when last Sir Royce held a court. He has welcomed no villager within his walls since wedding his lady wife.” The priest shrugged. “It could be said that the villagers have not received their due for their taxes.”
“You know they do not have the right to reclaim the coin.”
“Perhaps they should.”
Bartholomew shook his head. “I call it sophistry. You cannot declare it just to steal from another, even to serve what you perceive to be a good end. There is right and there is wrong, and a wrong can never repair another wrong.” He shook a finger at the priest. “Were I the baron of a holding and my villeins thought it fitting to rob from me for their own ends, I should scarce call that justice.”
Anna exhaled in audible frustration and Father Ignatius smiled.
“You find my view amusing?” the knight asked.
“I find it refreshing,” the priest replied. “And it only adds to my conviction that the true heir is returned and must be restored.” He laid a hand on Bartholomew’s arm before that man could protest. “You think it wrong that any should kill Sir Royce, even after what he has done to your own family.”
Bartholomew winced. “I have no evidence of what he has done. I have a tale, and it is a compelling one, but there is no proof of his villainy.”
“Aye, there is,” the priest insisted. “But it is not mine to share.”
“I do not understand.”
“Let Anna tell you why she would be willing to strike the fatal blow against Royce Montclair. This is not a court, but her testimony might change your view.”
