Sir Denys had heard many stories of the Ryngwoode in his life, mainly ones his nursemaid told him as a child to scare him away from the place. None had spirits with hollow eyes that bled black. And he certainly didn’t believe they were demons. “A rival gang of bandits maybe? Many take refuge in the Ryngwoode, could be one group encroached on another group’s territory.”
“Aye, I can see why you’d think that m’lord, but then why didn’t these other bandits, if that is indeed what they were, why didn’t they attempt to steal from me? They disappeared as soon as they appeared, not saying a word or even glancing towards me. Spirits I say, spirits or protectors.”
The two men travelled in silence for a few minutes, Sir Denys thinking the story over and the merchant not wanting to speak out of place. Another few hours and they would be in Knaresburgh. He looked across the flat lands to the north and realised there were no farms or settlements this close to the Ryngwoode anymore, just the odd abandoned windmill or barn, and uncultivated fields. They had also yet to pass anyone on the road. Word of bandits in the area must have spread while both men were away.
“So your injuries, Stephen the merchant, tell me what happened there.”
“Well,” he started, with an almost embarrassed laugh, “As soon as those bastards were dead on the ground I tried to calm Old Arthur down, he was more agitated than ever by now. And for the first time in his life he kicked me, right in the chest. I’m lucky he’s so old, otherwise I dare say I’d have been a goner there and then had it been a stronger horse. I stumbled back and smacked into the side of the cart, and off he bolted down the road, leaving me to slump down where you found me. And here we are.”
“And here we are indeed,” agreed Sir Denys.
“After all I’d been through and witnessed in those few minutes, being killed by me own horse would have been a shit way to go,” the merchant laughed.
Sir Denys laughed with him. “Very true. Can I safely assume this will be your last journey down this particular road?”
“I’m certainly wishing I’d stuck to my usual route further to the north, m’lord. Although… ne’er mind.” The merchant stopped himself mid-sentence, as if he was about to say something he may regret. “And you sir, what brings you this way?”
“I’m returning home after great success at the tourney in Helmsley,” Sir Denys said, smiling.
“Congratulations m’lord. How successful, if It’s not too brazen to ask…?” replied the merchant.
“I’m not one to blow my own trumpet,” he certainly was, “but other than a fall to the Badger Knight, it was a full win.”
“I missed the events this time around, too busy in the markets, but I’ve seen the Badger Knight fight before and he’s a bloody big bastard, excusing my language m’lord.”
Sir Denys laughed. “He certainly is a big bastard, one of the biggest I’ve ever seen. Strong and a good fighter with it. My own squire had to stay in Knaresburgh, recovering from a summer illness. The priest said he’d be fine but required rest, so I ended up travelling alone, aside from Lady Baucent here. At the tournament they supplied me with a local lad to squire, never seen a boy fumble so much. I swear I was set up to lose, but I showed them.” Sir Denys winked at the merchant, laughing.
“Days like this make me wish I was a fighter, m’lord. The roads ain’t safe for folks like me no more. I wasn’t born into a house of knights and guards. And I care not for the feasts and politics of the lords in their castles, I just want to live my life and ply my trade in peace and safety.” The merchant paused, an anxious look passing over his face. “If I may speak plainly, m’lord… I feel I’ll be going to petition your good lord father to do more about these bandits and make this road safe again. It’s bad enough we let these reavers have run through the Ryngwoode, but a man should be safe to travel this road. I pay my taxes, all fair, and I should be able to trade my wares out of town without being afeared for me life. Some of that tax money could be spent on helping the good folk of the land, not jousting and feasting.”
“I feel your brush with death today has indeed made you brazen, Stephen of Knaresburgh, a bit too brazen perhaps. Talk like that could send you to a cell,” replied Sir Denys, taking the words as a personal insult against his family.
“Aye, m’lord. Be that as it may, at least in a cell I have my life, that which flashed before my eyes today, twice in fact, and it’s made me think. I’d rather lose my head for calling out the wrongs of the world, than lose it to some bandit from the woods. Regular patrols would at least make them think twice about attacking folk like myself.” The cart hit another hole in the road, agitating the old man’s wounds. “And I’m sure some tax money could be spent on some stones to fill these holes the size of pots. Gonna knacker me bloody wheels one day!”
Sir Denys took a second to respond, thinking how he would feel in the merchant’s position. “I can’t disagree with you there, although I don’t think there are the men to commit to such a task. These past years of peace have led to less of a need for trained men-at-arms, and many of the existing soldiers have been sent even further north to help deal with the Scots incursions.”
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To be continued…
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