Chapter One #2
Tate heard his words, but his focus was on Toby.
Now that he was closer and could see her more clearly, she was indeed worth a second look.
“I have spent the majority of my life in London or in France, with the wars, and have hardly spent time in this land for which I hold title,” his gaze lingered on Toby.
“Harbottle Castle is a garrison I have seen three times in my life.”
Balin could see where Tate’s focus was and indicated his child. “May I present my eldest daughter, Mistress Elizabetha Aleanora de Tobins Cartingdon. She is the one who has seen to your requests with regard to revenue from the parish.”
“Mistress, I thank you for your service.”
“My pleasure, my lord.”
Tate’s gaze was like an immovable object.
He tried not to be obvious about it, but the lady was quite lovely.
Such beauty was very rare. He did not, however, like the bold nature he had seen come forth from her since their arrival.
Were it not for that flaw, he might have considered speaking further with her.
“Please, my lord,” Balin put his hands up to quiet the crowd. “Speak to our people. Tell them of England’s need.”
When Tate looked away from her, Toby felt as if she had been jolted. He had held her in such an odd trance that his sudden departure startled her. Still, she retained enough of her wits to remain attuned to the subject at hand.
“My lord, if I may,” she said carefully. “These are simple people with simple lives. Things like war frighten them, not inspire them. I am afraid a thunderous address will only further alarm them.”
Tate looked at her. “Mistress… Elizabetha, was it?”
His tone bordered on contempt. Toby struggled to retain her courage. “I have not gone by Elizabetha since my birth. I am known as Toby, my lord.”
“Toby? That is a strange name. A man’s name.”
“It is a nickname, my lord, given to me by my grandsire.”
“Why?”
“His family name was de Tobins. My mother gave it to me as a middle name. Everyone called my grandsire Toby and he called me the same.”
Tate’s reply was to give her one more look, a once-over, and turn back to the crowd.
Toby took the opportunity to study the man; the Lord of Harbottle, the title for the Harbottle Commons lordship he held, was an exceptionally tall man with arms the size of tree branches and enormous hands.
Though he wore no armor, merely layers of heavy tunics, breeches and massive boots, Toby could tell by the width of his shoulders that he was, quite simply, a very big man.
She backed off, unwilling to provoke Cartingdon’s liege, but she didn’t leave completely.
To do so, if he was going to war-monger, would have been to do a great injustice to the populace of Cartingdon. She felt as if she had to protect them.
Tate saw that she wasn’t leaving and he tried not to let it affect him as he addressed the uncertain throng. He wasn’t sure why she was so distracting, but she was.
“Good people of Cartingdon, I am Sir Tate Crewys de Lara, Lord of Harbottle. As your liege, it is a privilege to speak with you this day.”
The crowd had simmered, but they were still uneasy. Tate continued in an even voice.
“I have listened to your mayor speak on young Edward’s behalf,” he said.
“I am here to tell you that the king is ready, willing and able to assume the mantle left by his father. Those who are not the rightful rulers have assumed his throne. Most of England’s nobles understand this and to them I have made my plea.
I have spent many years in the service of the young king and I can personally vouch for his abilities.
He is wise, thoughtful, and fair as much as his young age will allow.
With the proper advisors, the rest will come with time.
” Tate raked his fingers through his short, dark hair as he collected his thoughts.
“I sent word to Mayor Cartingdon days ago requesting men and money for the king’s cause.
My men and I have been in town for two days, observing the people and countryside.
It is by sheer fortune that we are here for the meeting that will decide the aid you will provide Edward the King.
I could easily tax you to death or simply take what, by all rights, belongs to me.
But I choose not to do so. I would like the support from Cartingdon to be genuine, for the young king and his cause.
I believe he will establish a stable monarchy from which we may all benefit.
Therefore, I ask you to please decide favorably upon him.
England is Edward, and Edward needs your help. ”
By the time he finished, the entire church was silent.
The townsfolk looked at Balin, Toby, each other, attempting to determine if what their liege said was true.
He sounded convincing. Toby, too, was almost convinced of the young king’s cause after his speech; she stood slightly behind Tate and to the right, able to see his strong profile.
There was something about him that conveyed truth.
She looked at the knights standing well behind him; they, too, seemed strong and virtuous.
Even the squire seemed honorable. One of the villagers broke the silence.
“I am a ferrier, m’lord,” the older man said hesitantly. “I canna provide ye with gold or coin, but I can provide ye with meself. If Edward the Younger is in need, then we must help.”
Toby knew the man who spoke. He was kind but not intelligent.
She could see most of the other townsmen talking quietly to one another, no doubt discussing their prowess with a sword and crossbow.
Some of the men had already seen battle, called into action a few years earlier with the removal of King Edward and the Despencers.
There were some men, however, that had left to aid the crown and had not returned.
“What of the opposition, my lord?” Toby could not keep silent; she hated to see men’s lives wasted. “Can you please tell them of the opposition they will face?”
Tate looked at her, her beautiful face strong and her expression intense. He didn’t sense hostility from her, merely concern.
“The opposition is Queen Isabella and her lover, Roger Mortimer, Earl of March,” he said, glancing over the crowd.
“Mortimer has a large army at his disposal, as does the queen. The king’s troops, however, are loyal to young Edward; that much we have ascertained.
The Queen’s strength will come from France and her brother, the king’s army.
But once we have begun our campaign to reclaim the throne, summoning France’s troops will take time.
It is my belief that we will have enough time to subdue Isabella and Mortimer before support arrives. ”
“But what of the nobles?” Toby asked.
Tate’s gaze fixed on her again; he seemed incapable of staying away for long. “There are many in support of the king.”
“Who?”
“Alnwick, Warkworth and York in the north. Arundel in the south.”
He had named some of the most powerful nobles in England.
Their armed support collectively was staggering.
Toby felt her questions had been answered and was reluctant to press him further, although she was still opposed to the general idea of war.
Still, any more questions would have made her appear belligerent, which normally would not have concerned her, but she did not want to shame her father.
Balin, sensing she had come to the end of her queries, thank the Lord, stepped in.
“I am sure that each man can find it within his conscience to lend what support he can, my lord,” he said.
“All men interested in committing themselves to the young king’s army will assemble at the church tomorrow at noon for further instructions.
For my part, I will supply a herd of my finest sheep to sell at market and donate the proceeds. ”
Toby’s jaw dropped. “Father.…”
Balin cast his daughter a withering glare. “My daughter, as she is most knowledgeable in the accounting of my livestock, will be glad to show you the prize herd north at Lorbottle.”
Toby was speechless. It was the largest herd of sheep they had, nearly ready to be sheared.
The money they would bring would be enormous.
Astounded, she grappled with the concept as her father called an end to the gathering and the townspeople began to disband.
She was so stupefied that she didn’t realize when Tate came and stood next to her.
“If it would not take you away from any pressing duties, I would see the sheep this day,” he said. “I would also like a full accounting.”
Jolted from her thoughts, Toby looked up at him. From the corner of her eye, she could see that her father was about to make a hasty retreat from the church. “Excuse me a moment, my lord.”
She raced to her father, cutting off his exit. Balin held up his hands.
“Not a word,” he hissed at her. “You have my orders. Follow them.”
“Father, do you realize what you have done?” she hissed in return. “To donate five hundred head of sheep, with the price of wool today, will cost us a fortune in lost money. We still have to pay the wages of our farm, our taxes, and eat on top of everything else. We need that money.”
“It will not do us any good if England goes to the dogs under Isabella and Mortimer,” he said flatly. “We have suffered so much under Edward’s rule. Can you not understand that the young king is our best, brightest hope?”
“I understand that you have apparently lost your mind.”
“There are many things in this world that I will tolerate and many things that I learn to accept,” Tate was standing behind Toby, listening to everything that had been said.
“But the one thing I refuse to accept is a daughter’s disrespect to her father.
You, Mistress Toby, have an appalling lack of manners.
I have seen such display from the moment I first entered this church. ”