Chapter 12

Ebbwater, Barony of Dunwics Reach, Duchy of Kingsheart, Sidor

Tom Fletcher stood atop a wagon, looking out at the assembly of men gathered in Geoffrey’s barn. Local farmers and craftsmen mostly, though he noted more than a few road-weary travelers among them, faces etched with hardship from weeks’ worth of travel to get here. At a glance, Tom counted seventy men at least, so many that the great barn seemed full to bursting, even with both large doors thrown open to let in the late spring air.

The noise washed over him as the people, angry and frustrated, vented their rage. He’d seen firsthand how angry the people were getting, but even he didn’t realize it had gotten to this level. When he’d sent out word to friends and friends of friends that there would be a meeting to discuss how to deal with all of the new insults made by the crown, he’d made it clear he was looking to talk to some of them, hear their stories, and not to tell them how they would fix it or offer solutions right away.

None of that seemed to matter to the people who’d shown up. They wanted relief, and even the hint of someone able to offer it was enough to light a fire under each of them, demanding answers.

“These new taxes will ruin us!” a farmer cried out, his face flushed with anger. “My family already goes hungry. We’ll not last the winter at this rate!”

He shook his fists in the air as others shouted their agreement.

“At least you can still till your land and grow crops,” another man retorted, this one a little better dressed in a woolen tunic. “My business is trade, carrying goods from one barony to the other. How can I work if I’m not even allowed to leave The Reach?”

More shouts started piling on top of others, men shouting at the same time.

“Half my crop wasted, rotting, unable to sell it two towns over.”

“The tax collector took my only milk cow for back taxes!”

“My son was arrested for simply asking why the taxes were so high this year. Who tills my fields now?” an older farmer lamented.

“Enough is enough! We should drive out the next collector that comes round!” A large, barrel-chested man bellowed, shaking his fist.

“Fighting the king’s men is madness. I heard of a village up north that tried. Burned to the ground, every last one,” another yelled in reply.

The noise rose as more and more shouted, until it became a cacophony, words spilling on top of each other; it was all unintelligible shouting. He wanted to see how much fire they had in them, if they were ready to do what they must. Now he knew.

“Friends! Friends! Hear me!” Tom said, raising his hands.

He waited as the din slowly died down, heads turning in his direction, faces still angry. Some continued shouting and shaking their fists until their neighbors nudged them to silence.

“Friends, I share your outrage. The new restrictions and taxes are unjust, no argument there.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.

“And you’ve got fire in your bellies, I like that. Shows you’ve got heart. But we’ve got to be smart about this.” Tom paused, holding his hands up for quiet again as angry shouts threatened to drown him out. “What you heard about the village up north is true, and it’s a harsh lesson. They dragged a dozen men off in chains, fathers and husbands just trying to put food on the table. And what they did to the village headman ... no, that is not how you want your story to end. None of you.”

The crowd was silent now, taking in Tom’s warning.

“Well then, what do you suggest?” challenged the barrel-chested man who’d called for vindication against the king’s tax collectors.

“I’m not saying we do nothing. We need to act, that is for sure, but we need to be smart about it. They’ve shown they’re willing to take this out on our families and kill anyone they have to, if it means upholding their tyranny. If the crown can blame one village for an act of vengeance, they’ll bring their wrath down on every man, woman, and child everywhere.”

Murmurs of agreement spread through the crowd.

“And we can’t fight their knights in the field,” he continued. “Yes, there are more of us than them, but they can bring armored men, archers, and all the tools of war. We’d never be able to stand up against them.”

“Those all sound like reasons for us to do nothing,” the trader said.

“No, they’re reasons why we can’t do something impulsive. Foolish,” Tom said. “That isn’t the same as doing nothing. The king’s men are spread out, trying to collect taxes from everywhere at once and there are more of us than them. We know these lands, these people. They don’t.”

“So we become bandits?” someone else said.

“No. Not bandits. Anything we liberate, we give to the villages hit the hardest. We keep none of it. Our goal is to make the cost of collecting these taxes so high that they can’t afford it anymore.”

“What about the baron’s men?” someone asked. “Most of the tax collectors work for the barons, not the king.”

“True,” Tom said. “We have to be careful. Our fight is with the crown, mostly, and not the barons. Some of the barons are in bed with the crown, but many are as unhappy with the new taxes and edicts as we are. They can’t openly defy the crown, not without an army at their gates.”

“How will we know which is which?”

“Because they will be supporting us quietly, in their own way. Food for those who need it. Weapons for those with the courage and skill to use them. We can coordinate with them, after a fashion. If we plan to strike the king’s men, their soldiers might just happen to be in the wrong place at the right time, keeping their men from becoming involved. When they’re forced to collect the crown’s taxes, we will find it easier to relieve them of those unjust burdens without any bloodshed, so the coin can find its way back to the people.”

“How does a woodcutter know so much about barons and their plans?” someone in the crowd called out, eliciting good-natured chuckles.

“Does it matter?” Old Neil asked. “Known Tom since he was a boy! Good head on those shoulders, and eyes open to more than chopping wood. Fine man and there’s no better to lead our cause.”

There were nods of agreement from men around the room who knew him. The problem was that that was only a small portion of the gathered men. This was a diverse crowd from all over, most of whom didn’t know Tom, or even who might be talking to them. All they knew was there had been word that someone might have a solution to the sudden outrages coming from the crown ... and that they were desperate. They were also suspicious. The king’s men were about, and what was being said here could be taken as treason.

“I have been fortunate enough to have made many friends over the years, some who know people beyond the type someone like myself might encounter. And these are good people. People who want to help. They searched around for someone they could talk to, asking friends and then friends of friends, until they landed on me. I didn’t ask to be put in this position, but I can’t shrink from it either. Not with what I’ve seen happen recently. So I agreed.”

“Why do any of the highborn even care?” another called out.

“A fair question, and one I don’t have answers for. Their reasons are their own. Some do it because they have a love for their people; others because they see the way things are going and believe they are bad for the kingdom, which would ultimately be bad for them and their own fortunes. Some probably see profit in it and look to use us. Honestly, when pressed, I can only ask, do we care? If they come through with what they promise, we should take it, and use these tools to lessen our burdens. They have used us for long enough; I say it’s about time to return the favor.”

“What if it’s a trap, to catch anyone disloyal?”

“That’s why we will be careful about this, and why nothing will happen right away. We make sure each step of the way that they can deliver what is offered, and only put a few of us in danger each time, so that if it is a trap, we cannot name others when pressed.”

More murmurs this time. They were coming around, and only needed a push to go the rest of the way.

“In the end, I don’t care about any baron or duke or any other lord who seeks to rule us. I care about the people. Our people. We just want to live our lives and support our families. For that, I stand ready to spend blood and limb. I’m ready to take a stand and to do what must be done to rid ourselves of this tyranny. Who stands with me?”

The murmurs died down as they came to the moment of decision. Up until now, it had been complaining, men grousing about the actions of those above them. Now was the time to commit, and it was up to each man to do that on his own.

“I’m with you,” the barrel-chested man said, taking a symbolic step forward.

“And me,” said another, joining him.

By twos and threes, men stepped forward, until it became a rush of men offering their oaths to fight the king’s men. Tom jumped down and stepped up to the large man who’d spoken with such fire and been the first to step forward.

A good first step.

Sidorian Army Camp, Chansol River, Lynese William shifted uneasily, adjusting his weight from side to side in the saddle as he watched the ragged band of ‘recruits’ being led into the encampment by Starhaven Guardsmen. Even from a distance, he could see the hopeless, defeated postures of the recruits, their shoulders slumped and heads bowed low as they trudged along. It was clear they weren’t there by choice or free will.

The guardsmen, who’d been a constant presence in the capital when he was younger, now seemed out of place marching next to the army. Their ornate armor, which had always impressed William with its intricate decorations, now appeared almost fanciful compared to the solid, well-used armor of the soldiers.

As the procession drew nearer, William noted the recruits’ tattered clothing, smudged skin, unkempt hair and beards, all showing signs of long-term neglect: skin stretched thin over jutting bones, eyes sunken in gaunt faces. Seeing them, it didn’t feel right to William. These men had no reason to be in Lynese, let alone joining the army.

Aldric’s face was flushed with anger as he watched the recruits being herded into the camp like so many head of livestock.

“Get them situated and see to it that they have adequate food, water, and bedding,” he snapped at Pembroke, a rare edge of anger in his tone, not taking his eyes off the poor devils.