You Pay the Money, I Risk My Life

Roger, "far away" within four miles, knew nothing of that peerless genius's exploits. At this moment, he was sparring with White-faced John in the baronial residence of Brodick Castle.

Like most lords' residences, the building's lower level was built of stone, while the upper portion was timber, its roof laid with red tiles and pierced by two stone chimneys. The basement served as a prison, holding ruffians guilty of brawling, thieving chickens and dogs, as well as troublesome commoners who had defaulted on taxes or offended the lord. Two constables guarded the place.

The great hall on the first floor was spacious enough to hold a banquet for fifty or sixty people. At its upper end stood a dais raised by two steps, upon which sat a long table and a high-backed chair. One side of the hall housed a large kitchen for preparing banquet food. There was also a study where the baron usually received guests, country gentlemen, and tenants—a public office and drawing room combined—furnished with a wooden desk, several armchairs, and low stools.

There was also an office for the castle's officials. Allen Island's steward, sheriff and magistrate, tax officer and market inspector, as well as the baron's adviser, clerk, and judge—four civil officials crammed into that room, assisting Baron John in ruling Allen Island.

The sheriff ought to have worked in the barracks, but in recent years Baron John had strengthened his household guard. The few barracks rooms were packed with household knights and the dozen-odd soldiers under his command. Moreover, the one-armed sheriff had a residence in the market town, so he could only squeeze in with the civil officials, while his five constables could only crowd into the castle storeroom.

The second and third floors of the residence were Baron John's private quarters for himself and his family, with more than ten rooms. A covered passage linked the top floor to the castle keep; should urgent danger arise, those in the residence could enter the keep through the passage and take shelter.

The residence's main floor was as spacious as a church, a hundred feet long and thirty feet wide. Because the span was so broad, and timbers long enough to support a thirty-foot roof were both hard to find and expensive, a row of wooden pillars supporting the beams divided the great hall. Tapestries hung on the interior walls, glass filled the windows, and two enormous fireplaces kept the lord's family warm through winter.

When Roger barged into the baronial residence without announcement, White-faced John was at the top-floor passage, trousers off and busy doing that with his catamite brother. With his good time interrupted, White-faced John was naturally sour-faced.

But when a servant said Roger had a matter of heaven-shaking urgency to discuss with him, White-faced John forced himself to pull up his trousers and come down to the small study on the first floor, despite his utter disgust.

The moment he stepped into the study, he saw Roger sprawled in the armchair behind the desk where his father usually sat, his crossed feet planted atop the desk and a full glass bottle of wine in hand.

"Who told you to serve him wine?" White-faced John shouted at the servants behind him.

The servant behind him looked aggrieved. Lowering his head, he muttered, "He went into the kitchen and took it by force himself."

White-faced John ignored the servant. He entered the study, found himself a seat near the fireplace, and sat down. It was the farthest spot from the desk. Roger had come knocking at his door now; there was no need to guess why.

White-faced John leaned against his chair by the fireplace with a face full of contempt, idly raising the back of his soft, smooth hand and stroking it back and forth. "You caused this disaster. Don't think you can drag all of Brodick down with you. If you truly care about everyone's safety, go surrender your life to those pirates yourself."

When Roger did not answer, White-faced John grew irritated. "If you have anything else to say, say it quickly. I'm busy."

"Busy fucking your pretty boy?" Roger raised his head with a roguish grin.

White-faced John shot to his feet and turned to leave.

"Wait." Roger called out in a low voice, then softened his tone. "You're the heir to the Barony of Allen Island, after all. If you can't even keep this much composure, how will you make the islanders submit to you in the future?"

"My baronial title was bestowed by God. I have no need for lowly commoners to submit to me." White-faced John was brimming with arrogance. As Baron John's only son, he had no need to worry about inheritance.

Roger rose from the armchair and slowly walked toward White-faced John, gripping the bottle by its neck.

"Bestowed by God?" Roger snorted with a laugh. "I wouldn't be so sure."

White-faced John turned around and asked sideways, "What do you mean?"

Roger stood before him, swaying the wine bottle. "I hear my great uncle rather dislikes certain tastes of a certain someone, and often threatens to strip that someone of his inheritance."

Ever since Baron John had learned that his only son preferred the dragon and the sun, he had indeed repeatedly threatened to disinherit him in order to force him to change. In truth, they were only threats. But words spoken too often would always sink into the ears of someone with intentions.

As Roger raised the bottle and took a swig, he glanced at White-faced John. The other man's cheeks visibly twitched twice.

"My uncle is only forty, and he's strong as an ox. Perhaps he can still father three or five heirs who satisfy him." Roger continued to pour oil on the flames. "Oh, and there are rumors outside that the Baron of Allen Island already has several bastards on the mainland. Perhaps he could pick one he likes from among those mongrels and bring him back."

"Well, bastards might not be ideal. But a title doesn't necessarily have to pass to a son. Brothers, nephews, and grandnephews also have inheritance rights." Roger put on a look of sudden realization. "All these years, Uncle has brought my equally brave and warlike elder brother along on every campaign. Could it be—"

Roger dragged out those words, "Could it be," for a long while, then clicked his tongue. "No wonder people on the island say that Squire Colin II inherited every virtue of his fathers and forefathers."

With that, he tipped all the wine in the bottle into his mouth and covertly watched White-faced John's somewhat strange expression.

Seeing that he had seized the other man's weak spot, Roger got to the point. "This disaster was indeed caused by me, but it happened while you were acting as regent of the island."

"If there truly is no way out, I'll run at once. Those pirates may not dare attack Brodick, but if they can't find their enemy, they can still vent their fury by slaughtering and looting a few villages."

"Just imagine it: the cowardly acting lord cowers in the castle and watches pirates massacre villagers. What will the islanders think of their future lord? Uncle will return before long. Cousin, how will you face his wrath then?" Roger stressed the words "future lord" and "wrath" heavily.

White-faced John lifted his head and stared straight at Roger's solemn face. That expression made it seem as though Roger truly had been considering everything for his sake.

Ever since the upheaval yesterday afternoon, White-faced John had not dared sleep deeply all night. Though he had gathered more than a dozen middle-aged strongmen from the market town to guard the castle, he could not defend the vast Allen Island. Whether those pirates came to Brodick for revenge, went to Milk House Estate to settle scores, or simply slaughtered a few villages at random, he would not escape the accusation of failing to defend his lands.

That bastard Roger's words had indeed struck White-faced John right in the heart.

"What are you trying to say?" White-faced John's tone remained stiff, but his attitude had eased considerably.

That was exactly the question Roger wanted. He explained that he had already sent Baldy out to gather sturdy islanders, while he himself would lead brave warriors north to wipe out the pirates.

"Young Master Roger certainly has the nerve of a villain." But the voice did not belong to White-faced John.

A plump, richly dressed noblewoman past forty had somehow appeared at the study door. Behind her stood a young woman wearing a soft pink dress; beneath its square neckline lay the fair skin of her slender neck.

This woman was the new bride White-faced John had married last spring. White-faced John had not invited Roger, "far away" in Argyll, to his wedding. When Roger had come to Brodick last month, Baron John had slapped him out the door the moment he entered. Thus, Roger studied the woman for quite a while but still could not recall this cousin-in-law he had never met.

Roger was more familiar with the sharp-looking steward behind the beautiful cousin-in-law. After all, when Roger had stood here and taken Baron John's slap last time, the steward had stood nearby with a cold smile.

Roger had no choice but to shift his gaze from his young, beautiful cousin-in-law, because the middle-aged noblewoman's eyes were already enough to kill him.

"Aunt!" Roger gave the noblewoman a slight bow in greeting.

The noblewoman angled her body aside and refused to accept his bow. "Young Master Roger, you had better call me the Baroness. The baron has made it clear that the Colin family has no second son. I would not dare defy him."

Roger immediately sensed that things were looking bad. This middle-aged noblewoman was not as easy to handle as White-faced John.

After a pause, Roger simply resumed his roguish manner and said without the slightest respect, "Baroness, I presume you overheard just now. John pays in reputation, I pay with my life. If I fail, Allen Island will have one less scourge from then on, and neither my uncle nor my father will blame you. If I succeed, and by luck retain half this wretched life, Young Master John will reap every bit of the glory."

Whenever her only son's personal interests were involved, the middle-aged noblewoman became shrewd. She asked bluntly, "Other than the name, what conditions do you need John to provide?"

Though this noblewoman was truly unpleasant, she had a straightforward temperament.

Roger was delighted by that, as it spared him much breath. "I will urgently recruit several dozen sturdy men among the islanders who dare risk their lives against pirate brigands. Time is tight. Without a heavy reward, it cannot be done. So I need five pounds in bounty money to buy lives."

Seeing no response from her, Roger continued, "Since they'll be risking their lives against pirate brigands, farm tools and clubs absolutely won't cut it. So I also need the acting lord to open the castle armory. I want to select weapons and armor to issue to the warriors who answer the call."

The other party still said nothing.

"Of course, as acting lord, Young Master John should naturally encourage those islanders who come to enlist, and incidentally grant me command over the force going to suppress the bandits."

Roger threw out all his conditions in one breath, his eyes slowly sweeping over White-faced John and the middle-aged noblewoman.

"I—" John was about to speak.

"We cannot agree to all your conditions." The middle-aged noblewoman cut off her son in one stroke, leaving White-faced John so stifled his face turned red.

"Commoners' lives aren't worth that much. I'll provide one pound in silver pennies, but the steward must personally supervise their distribution on John's behalf to the islanders you recruit." The middle-aged noblewoman truly feared that the bastard Roger would take the money and flee for his life.

"As for having John encourage the islanders to fight, you need not remind us at all. He already possesses every leadership quality a lord should have."

"As for opening the armory, since you are taking men to risk your lives against pirate brigands, naturally we will not send you empty-handed."

"Once you have gathered your men, go directly to the sheriff. He will open the castle armory. Pick whatever you see fit, but everything must be returned afterward."