An Uncertain Choice(3)

He lifted his head, and fear flashed across his countenance. “I was only carrying out the sheriff’s orders, my lady.”

My frustration fanned hotter. I should have known. The sheriff hadn’t approved of my leniency among the populace. But with two recent outbreaks of a mysterious illness in outlying areas, the poor were dying, and I had no choice but to bestow more compassion.

“Tell the sheriff I request his presence at the Great Hall this very day. And you will accompany him.”

The bailiff lowered his head in acquiescence.

Inwardly, I sighed at the confrontation that was to come. The sheriff had never liked me, even though he’d saved me from a plague-stricken peasant several years ago. He was the kind of man who thought women were useless. And now that I’d inherited Ashby, his dislike had only grown, as had his resistance to taking orders from me. Of course, I hadn’t yet become full ruler of my lands. I was still under the guidance and leadership of Abbot Francis Michael until my eighteenth birthday. But in a month, I would be able to rule on my own, even if it would be from the convent as a nun. The sheriff would eventually have to learn to accept my decisions. No matter how much he disliked the idea of having a female ruler, I was the only and rightful heir to Ashby.

The warhorse in front of me snorted, shifting my attention back to the knight, who was obviously waiting, as he should, for me to speak first and acknowledge his presence.

“Sir,” I started. “I owe you my deepest gratitude.” Only then did he straighten. Through the eye slits, his guileless gaze met mine and radiated with approval. And somehow I knew he was a friend, not a foe.

“My lady.” His voice echoed behind the hollow metal. “You owe me nothing.”

If only he would remove his helmet so I could see his mouth, to know whether he offered me a smile. Although I wasn’t sure why that should matter.

He shifted in his saddle, his steed tossing its head and growing restless.

I was tempted to order him to dismount and show his face. Who was he? A lord from one of the neighboring lands? But before I could speak, he shied back a step. “For one as fair and kind as you, my lady, whatever you wish shall always be my command.”

With that, he bowed one last time. Then, tucking his halberd under his arm, he gave rein to his horse, allowing the beast to twist and rear away. Before I could tell him to stop, he galloped across the square and veered down the main street that led to the city gates.

Like everyone else, all I could do was stare after him until he disappeared.





Chapter

2




“The sheriff has gone too far this time,” I said to the abbot, who stood by my side.

Abbot Francis Michael, taller than most men, bent low to speak into my ear, giving me full view of the bald spot on his tonsured head. “Don’t be too harsh with him, my child. He’s only attempting to keep order.”

The sheriff and bailiff stood stiffly by the double doors of the Great Hall, flanked on either side by two of my soldiers. While the bailiff’s expression contained the same fear I’d seen at the market square earlier, the sheriff’s dark scowl reflected his irritation and none of the submission I desired.

“Think about the predicament from his perspective,” the abbot continued in his calm and quiet tone. “If he allows a few to break the law without repercussion, then others will think they can do the same. Such lenience could lead to anarchy.”

“You know I don’t condone stealing,” I said. “But if the poor are desperate enough to break the law, then we must increase the amount of their assistance.”

The abbot rose and tucked his hands into the wide sleeves of his habit. Although a slender man from his many fasts, he was not weak. The reverent lines of his face radiated the strength I had come to rely upon over the past four years.

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and instead stared straight ahead thoughtfully and prayerfully.

I turned my own critical eye toward the view. The enormous hall with its high arched ceiling, palatial colonnades, thick tapestries, and glazed windows attested to my wealth. As did the elegant engraving on the golden chair in which I sat. What need did I have for such lavishness when my subjects languished? Selling or trading the opulent throne and tapestries could provide months of provisions for the poorest in the land. What need would I have for it anyway once I entered the convent next month?

The abbot finally sighed. “You have a soft heart, child. And you have already given more than you can afford.”

My stomach cinched at the feeling of ineptness that weighed on me whenever I conversed with the abbot about the financial predicament of my lands. If there was one point of disagreement between the abbot and me, it was on the distribution of funds. Even though I supported the architectural plans for the cathedral and abbey he was designing, I wanted to remain generous to the poor. We seemed to be growing at odds on how to do so without draining the coffers.

“We must do more,” I said more to myself than to the abbot. My parents had sacrificed their lives in order to help the people of Ashby. I’d vowed to do the same, to become the kind of ruler that my parents would be proud of, to do all I could so that their death wouldn’t be in vain.

The abbot finally gave a resigned nod. He knew that I’d made it my life calling to rule my people with compassion. “In the meantime,” he said, “you must show the same compassion to the sheriff that you wish to show to all of your people.”