Sir Bentley and Holbrook Court (14 page)

“You are partially correct. They will indeed eat more and have more children. But they will not get lazy if you give them more land to till.
They will be healthier, which means they will be able to work harder, and so will their children. Right now you bring in fifty percent of one poorly tilled field per family In just a few years, you could have twenty-five percent of three or four well-tilled fields from one family If one field produces one hundred baskets of corn, which would bring you more?”

Kingsley quickly made the calculations in his head and began to smile.

“But they will have to be well managed and controlled,” Kingsley mused. “Some of the farms will become larger.”

“Yes…so make them more than farmers. Make them managers as well. Allow them to hire others to work for them without penalty so they can increase their production.” Bentley could see Kingsley's mind evaluating his words. “I have seen your stables in the distance. You treat your beautiful horses well. What would happen if you beat them and starved them every day? How well would they do their work?”

Kingsley was deep in thought. “I must think on what you have said. Perhaps you will rob me of yet another nights sleep, and we shall be even.”

“Only if my head has a floor to rest upon instead of the splintered wood of the stocks,” Bentley replied with a smile.

Kingsley returned the smile. “Guard, put him in a cell.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Over the course of the following days, Lord Kingsley continued to visit Bentley—to Sir Avarick's extreme agitation. By the sixth day, Kingsley allowed Bentley to stroll with him through one of the gardens as they talked. Bentley knew that Kingsley's sole motivation was the further accumulation of wealth, but Bentley also knew that his suggestions had the potential of bringing relief to the people, so he wanted to keep the lord's ear. To that end, he also gave Kingsley counsel on how to increase his profits in trading his goods with neighboring regions.

Kingsley's first application of Bentley's counsel on trade pleased him by yielding a nice profit. In regard to the peasants, however, Kingsley
was reluctant to change his ways. He considered Bentley's proposition too great a risk, at least for the time being. Sir Avarick vehemently opposed all of Bentley's counsel and found opportunity to threaten him when Kingsley was not around. Still, Kingsley became fond of Bentley and by the end of the second week, he was removed from the prison cell and given guest quarters in one of the guest halls.

As the days passed, Bentley's most earnest concern was Anya. Having gained some measure of freedom, Bentley entreated one of the servants to find a way to get a message to Walsch to find out if she was all right.

“Do not forget, you are still my prisoner for another week,” Kingsley said one afternoon after a long discussion about which goods brought the greatest profits. But then he invited Bentley to dinner that evening.

Bentley was allowed to bathe and was given some appropriate clothing to attend the evening meal. He had to admit that it felt wonderful to be clean and dressed in clothes that fit well. He looked like a nobleman once again—or at least like a prosperous merchant's son.

He was escorted to the dining hall. When he entered, Kingsley Braith, Gwylin, and Sir Avarick were already seated.

Evidently his invitation was a surprise to everyone there except Lord Kingsley. Lady Gwylin's mouth opened as though she were going to speak, but instead she just stared in disbelief. Bentley gazed back at her, experiencing a strange sense that he had been here before.

Avarick stood from his chair, as did Braith. “What is the meaning of this?” Avarick demanded.

“Bentley is our guest tonight.” Kingsley motioned for him to be seated.

Avarick slammed his hand down on the table. “I will not eat a meal with a peasant who has insulted Holbrook Court by his insolence, rebellion, and foolish babbling.”

“Bentley is now my economic advisor,” Kingsley said forcefully “and he is invited to eat this meal with us.”

“
I
am your advisor,” spat Avarick.
“I
made you into the powerful lord that you are today This… this… peasant has beguiled you.”

“You have done well in protecting my castle and my lands, Sir Avarick, but Bentley has already proven himself in his counsel on trade. I will consider his counsel in other economic affairs as well.”

Avarick kicked his chair away from himself, and it careened backward until it toppled to the floor. He walked straight to Bentley and glared at him. He was a powerful warrior, and Bentley felt small next to him. Avarick's hand closed around the hilt of his sword. His voice seethed with hatred as he spoke only loudly enough for Bentley to hear.

“By weeks end you will leave or I will kill you!” Still seething, Avarick left the hall.

“Father, really… a peasant at our table?” Braith walked past Bentley with a sneer on his face and exited the hall behind Avarick.

“Well then,” Kingsley said with a forced grin, “I guess it will be just the three of us.”

Gwylin looked fiercely at her father and then rose from the table as well and exited through a different doorway. She didn't look at Bentley.

“Or two,” Kingsley said. “Come, Bentley, sit. Do not let their foul mood spoil the meal.”

They enjoyed a grand meal of six courses and talked at length about the financial gain Kingsley could attain. Bentley even talked of the Prince and probed to discover if Kingsley could be swayed to lighten the burden of his subjects simply out of mercy or kindness. But unless his counsel could assure Kingsley of further accumulation of wealth, he would have nothing to do with it.

Bentley concluded that Kingsley was as shrewd in the treatment of his peasants as he was in the treatment of his money. If he had to spend some to gain more, he would do it in an instant, but he would do nothing out of simple kindness.

This disheartened Bentley greatly until he remembered something Demus had taught him—that it is the Prince who brings true change to
the hearts of men. Such a change in Kingsley would take time, but perhaps Bentley could begin to plant the seeds of truth in the heart of this greedy lord—seeds that would one day grow into genuine compassion.

Bentley was also cognizant of the fact that he now had an enemy—a powerful one. Because of Kingsley's favor, Bentley still felt that Avarick wouldn't dare harm him in the castle lord's presence. However, that left many hours of the day and every hour of the night during which he would be vulnerable to the whims of this threatening adversary.

He was quickly gaining an understanding of the relationship between this mighty warrior and Kingsley. If Avarick did not exaggerate his role in garnering Kingsley's wealth and power for him in the land, then Bentley understood why Kingsley allowed what could easily be interpreted as insolence toward him as lord of Holbrook Court. Avarick commanded a force of men for Kingsley that included twenty-five of his original warriors, fifty lesser knights, and another two hundred guards. Bentley was sure that many would do the bidding of Avarick in an instant, perhaps even if it went against Kingsley's wishes.

After just one night, Bentley was disgusted with the intricate politics of the court—politics that seemed even to splinter family bonds.

He couldn't wait to get away from Holbrook Castle.

THE WATERS
OF RESOLVE

By the week's end, Bentley was granted his freedom, but Kingsley invited him to remain as an advisor. “You shall be well taken care of,” he said. “And I will compensate you for your counsel in economic affairs.”

“Your offer is gracious, Lord Kingsley, but there are many of your subjects who need my help.”

Kingsley rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Your understanding of business and economics is brilliant. Peasant or not, you do not belong out there.” He motioned with his head toward the beautiful walls that surrounded the court.

Bentley smiled but shook his head. “The Prince has taught me that the value of a man and his destiny do not depend upon which side of the castle wall he makes his home.”

“I could force you to stay,” Kingsley said sternly.

“Without a doubt, sir. But which counsel is more valuable—that of a prisoner or that of a friend?”

Kingsley laughed. “You do refresh my soul, Bentley. You will keep your promise to meet with me daily at the gate?”

“I shall, my lord—after I return from a journey. I shall send word.”

Bentley insisted on donning his peasant clothes before leaving the castle. He reentered the world of despair on a day when the sun seemed to scorch his skin and there was no breeze to cool it. For some reason the oppression of the people felt worse now than it had three weeks earlier. At first he thought it was simply a matter of perspective, but he quickly discovered this was not so. The people on the streets were truly more weary, bedraggled, and forlorn than they had been before.

He made his way to Walsch's home—a small cottage on a field near the river. Bordered by trees and blessed with rich soil, it was a good field, one that Walsch was preparing for his future bride and, hopefully, a family. The cottage was small and simple, with just a single room, but for a strong young peasant it was a good start.

Bentley could see Walsch working in the field, and he yelled and waved to him from a distance. Walsch paused his work and looked but didn't wave back. As Bentley came closer, he put his hand to his brow to shade the sun from his eyes.

“Ben…that be you?”

“Yes, my large friend, it is I.”

Walsch dropped his hoe and ran to Bentley. He grabbed his arm, smiled, and then embraced him. He stood back and looked Bentley over from head to toe.

“Prison life suits ye well,” Walsch said, and then his smile vanished.

Bentley saw the same look of despair on Walsch that he had seen on the faces of others. He was concerned. “What of Anya? Is she all right? Is she here?” Bentley gestured toward the cottage.

“She's not here, Ben.” Walsch shook his head and looked to the ground. “What should I know of caring for a wee one? Luanne's family agreed to take her in for a time.”

Bentley sighed with relief.

“But it's been hard, Ben. Sir Avarick and his men 'ave been ruthless.” Walsch shook his head slowly. “These past two weeks 'ave been
gettin’ worse and worse each day. The people be failing, I tell ye. Many ‘ave been beaten for the smallest infractions and oft for no reason at all. I don't understand it.”

Bentley's heart sank. “I think I do. Has the Mercy Maiden helped at all?”

“She's not been to the people since Avarick threatened her. I don't think she'll be back.”

Bentley and Walsch walked as the latter shared story after story of woe. With each one, Bentley's sorrow grew. They came to the river, and the men knelt down to drink. Bentley cupped his hand and lifted the cool, refreshing water to his lips. He felt the cold wash clean down into his bosom. The sensation reminded him of the refreshing truth he had discovered in the Prince and how that too had seemed to wash him deep within.

It was at this moment that Bentley resolved to bring such life to these people he had come to love, no matter what it meant for him personally. He stood and walked away a few paces as he thought. He turned back and saw Walsch cooling his neck and face with the cold water.