Page 7 of Castle of Refuge

Audrey twisted her body so that she landed on her side. Her head hit hard, right in the edge of the fire. Searing pain was the last thing she remembered as her vision went black.

Two

Four years later... Summer 1382

Dericott Castle, Bedfordshire

“You will not be required to pay your labor duties in the lord’s fields or furlongs for one year.”

Edwin faced the villeins who lived and worked on the demesne that his family had owned for over a hundred years—all the land round about Dericott Castle. The villeins had gathered at his request, and now he had their full attention.

The people looked quite scrawny, their skin browned from the sun. Their clothes, which were made of rough wool, were ragged and stained. Many of them stared at him for a long time, while others cast furtive glances, hardly daring to lift their heads for more than a moment or two.

“Do you mean no plow work? For a fortnight?” one brave soul asked.

“No plow work, that is correct, but I mean for the rest of the year.”

The people exchanged glances with one another.

“Think of it as a year of Jubilee. Your debt of work has been canceled.”

Edwin was not sure what reaction he had expected, but he had anticipated some show of joy or relief or celebration. But instead they were mute and still.

“You may use this year to work your own furlongs and your own crops, and you do not need to give any part of your crops to me. I give you leave to keep it all for yourselves. You have earned a respite. I have servants to till my furrows and to plant and sow, and what they cannot get to will lie fallow. You are to do for yourselves only, all year.”

They all continued to stare at him and exchange glances with one another, as if confused and seeking confirmation that they had heard correctly.

“You are free to go.”

A few of them began to smile. Several nodded and bowed and backed away. But as they walked down the dirt lane, they began to clap one another on the back, to laugh and talk.

One young man turned around and said, “Thank you, Lord Dericott. May God bless you for your generosity.” He bowed and went on his way.

A few others did the same, thanking him and blessing him. But most simply hurried on, still appearing astonished, some mumbling to each other as they walked.

This... this felt good.

After such a long time of feeling heavy inside, weeks of lying in bed recovering from the removal of his arm by a London barber five months ago, he finally felt... better. His life had not turned out as he’d expected or wanted, and there was nothing he could do about that, but now that his father was dead and Edwin was the new earl, he had the power to lighten the burden of the people around him.

He couldn’t remember his father even mentioning the peasants who labored on his family’s demesne more than once or twice in his whole life, and certainly his father would not approve of Edwin giving them a year off from their labor tax, which tied them to the land and made them, for all intents and purposes, his slaves for a certain portion of every year.

His father seemed to think of the villeins as property, not living people with hearts and souls. But after what Edwin had been through, he’d had a lot of time to think. What was man that God should be mindful of him? Did God care more for an earl than for a villein? If he’d learned anything from his study of the Holy Writ, he’d learned that the same God who made one also made the other. And just as a villein could fall prey to injustice and misfortune, so could an earl.

The captain of his guard came toward him. “This missive just arrived for you.” He held out a rolled-up parchment.

The seal and colors belonged to the Earl of Essex. He took it, his heart beating faster. Had Lady Ophelia, the Lord Essex’s daughter, finally written him?

He broke the seal and unrolled the letter.

Dericott,

Thank you for your letter. All is in good order here, with only a few ill effects of Wat Tyler’s Rebellion. A recent rain washed away a bridge. Other than that all is well in Essex and with my family. My prayer is that you and your family are in good health.

I wanted to express my condolences on your injury sustained some months ago when you and your brothers were wrongly imprisoned. I pray God will avenge you on those responsible.

I am yours respectfully,

Essex